Dreams of ash and snow
by InkAndShadow
Summary: All Kyra Nightingale wanted was to be alone and free, but fate seems determined to force her down a different path. When the line between predator and prey becomes blurred, she must shoulder her responsibility to defeat Alduin, while trying to figure out a girl who seems dedicated to bringing down her carefully constructed walls. And all the while, a new darkness is rising. SLASH.
1. Wrong place, wrong time

**This is a re-write of the first chapter - it's more than double the length and has a lot of extra details! Reviews will absolutely make my day, and I'm always open to new ideas.**

 **Be aware that this is slash, so if you don't like, don't read.**

 **Disclaimer: Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda, and I am making no profit from writing this. The only things I own are the plot, and a handful of OC's thrown in.**

* * *

The air smelt of ash and snow. The distinct smell hovered around Kyra, reminding her of home. She must be close.

The coldness was sharp in her nose as she breathed in. The crisp quality of the iciness could only be found here - in Skyrim. Despite the time that had passed, it felt as familiar as ever.

Quickening her pace in anticipation, she shrugged her pack further onto her shoulders and took note of the gradual change in the surrounding nature. Snow started to dot the ground - the product of last night's gentle fall - and blue mountain flowers grew like weeds, their vivid colour stark against the grass.

Voices caught her attention. She paused, hand hovering over her sword in caution as her fingers twitched. Chances were, it was a simple traveler like her. But by now, she knew not to make such assumptions - it could as easily be a bandit or necromancer.

She edged her way to the side of the path, taking cover in the dappled shade shed by the trees. With careful steps, she moved towards the source of sound.

A flicker of artificial blue caught her eye - clothing, perhaps?

She ducked behind a rotting tree stump just as two armoured figures emerged from the trees - soldiers. One was male, the other female. They were talking in low undertones and although they didn't seem to be particularly aggressive, she wasn't taking any chances. She probably _could_ defeat them if forced into it, but she didn't want to step into her old home cloaked in blood and violence. That was how she had left - she was determined that things would go differently this time.

She became aware of a presence behind her an instance before a twig snapped. She started to whirl round, muscles tensing and hand reaching for her swords, but the contact of metal against her throat stilled the motion. The ghosting touch was as cold as ice.

"Place your hands on your head," a male voice said.

Internally cursing herself for letting her guard down, she let the hilt of her sword slip through her fingers and did as she was told.

"Stand up and face me. No sudden moves, mind." The voice spoke again as the spear swayed against her throat. The polished edge nicked her skin slightly and she felt a trickle of blood form.

Moving slowly, she stood up and turned around, aware that the two soldiers had spotted the commotion and were now jogging over.

The soldier she was facing held his spear with practiced ease, his stance both light and ready despite his short height. He was dressed in the same blue armour the other soldiers were, although his was stained by dirt and drops of old blood.

She didn't dare move as the two other soldiers reached them, their breath sounding loud in the motionless morning air.

"Who are you?" the female soldier bit out, drawing her sword and aiming it at Kyra's chest. "An Imperial spy?"

Kyra frowned and opened her mouth to answer but evidently she had taken too long because the female soldier stepped forward aggressively.

"I said, who the hell are you? You'd better start talking, stranger!" she snarled, brandishing her sword.

The male soldier who had been with her put his hand on her arm. "Careful Freyja. She might be just a civilian." He turned to her. "What _are_ you doing here?" Although his tone still held steel, there was more sympathy present than the female.

She swallowed. "I'm just a traveler heading back into Skyrim. Is that illegal all of a sudden?" She tossed out a quick laugh and then looked closer at them when the short male opposite her shifted position. "You're Stormcloaks, aren't you?" she said in realisation.

"And where are you from if you didn't immediately recognise us?" the short male said softly, his spear still hovering at her throat.

"I've been…travelling," she said, hating her lame excuse.

Freyja scoffed. "Oh, how convenient! And you actually expect us to believe that?"

The taller soldier shot her a glance and Freyja bristled. "Don't look at me like that, Ralof. There's every chance she's a spy and I'm not taking any risks."

Ralof sighed. "Do you know anything of our plans?" he asked, addressing Kyra.

"Of course I don't! Even if I was a spy, it's not like I'd tell you." She immediately snapped her mouth shut, knowing she had said the wrong thing.

"So you are a spy!" Freyja snarled, her face triumphant. "You just admitted to it."

"No, she didn't," the unnamed soldier said. He lowered his spear but kept it at the ready. "But it's better to be safe than sorry. We'll take her back to the main force and Ulfric can have the final say. She doesn't look like spy material but this pass isn't well known. Agreed?"

Ralof nodded immediately but it took Freyja a few seconds before she gave a curt inclination. "Drop your swords on the ground," she commanded. "No sudden moves or you'll regret it. Drop your pack too."

Kyra inwardly sighed, wondering whether was worth trying to fight her way out of this, but decided against it. It was too risky. She shrugged out of her pack and dropped her swords on the floor, gritting her teeth when Freyja picked them up and twirled them carelessly.

When they were satisfied she was no longer a threat, they set off at a brisk run, Freyja's sword still lingering behind her in case she caught any ideas.

They were only running for around five minutes before more soldiers dressed in blue came into sight, forming a winding column of armoured figures. There weren't many - the force perhaps numbered twenty in total, including one astride a black horse at the front of the group. Two wagons rolled in the middle and something metal glinted deep within.

The four of them headed to the figure on horseback, who glanced at them suspiciously but didn't stop his horse. They were forced to maintain a quick pace in order to keep up.

"Jarl Ulfric." The still unnamed soldier offered a quick bow of his head.

"Who's she?" Ulfric asked brusquely, narrowing his eyes.

"We found her some distance away," he said, gesturing at Kyra. "She claims she's a traveler simply heading back into Skyrim and doesn't seem to be an Imperial spy, but I wanted to report it to you anyway, sir."

Ulfric gave her a considering look before turning back. "Well done soldier. You did the right thing." The unnamed soldier swelled in pride as Ulfric continued speaking. "Did she have any recognisable documents on her? Imperial or otherwise."

"None sir," Freyja interjected. "But the pass isn't commonly used and she _was_ hiding from us when we discovered her."

Ulfric nodded slowly, fingering his sword hilt in thought. "Very well. I thank you all for your caution but not everyone we pass is a direct threat. And I won't allow Tullius to discover we accused one of our own of being a spy." He turned directly to her, sun reflecting off his armour and making her squint. "I will allow you to continue on your way and as long as you make no effort to impede our progress, we will do the same for you."

She nodded quickly, muttering a thanks and inwardly grinning when Freyja looked even more sour than usual. No doubt she had been expecting Ulfric to order her immediate execution. But unfortunately for Freyja, no execution attempts were to occur in the immediate future.

Ulfric waved his hand in a dismissive motion at the nameless soldier and Ralof, who snapped to attention briefly before turning and disappearing among the group of Stormcloaks.

"I'll have my pack and swords back please," she said cheekily to Freyja and raised an eyebrow when she hesitated and glanced towards Ulfric. He nodded distractedly as he craned his neck to see beyond the horizon.

With a look that could kill, Freyja dropped her swords carelessly on the ground along with her pack. Kyra quickly knelt to pick them up and smiled as the familiar weight of her dual swords settled in her hands.

Rising to her feet once more, she rolled her shoulders to get rid of the excess tension and noted the expression on Freyja's face had suddenly become expressionless, almost slack. It was a vivid contrast to the simmering mistrust that had lay there before and she frowned, a fluttering feeling beginning in her chest.

But before Kyra could move, Freyja started to slowly pitch forwards, making no effort to catch herself. Even as Kyra watched, she fell to the ground with a soft thump, her limbs askew. She lay motionless, face down, an arrow standing tall between her shoulder blades.

A high-pitched whine sounded from behind her and she ducked out the way as another arrow shot forwards from within the undergrowth. And then another arrow was released, and another, and another. Two Stormcloaks let out pained cries as the deadly metal made contact with them.

A tangible wave of panic rippled through the Stormcloak troops as voices were raised and weapons were drawn. They tried to form themselves into organised lines but it was chaos - solders tripped over each other in an effort to escape the swarm of arrows.

Kyra stayed low, gripping onto her swords tightly but was forced to jump out the way to avoid Ulfric's horse, which reared up in terror as an arrow nicked its ear. Ulfric tried to bring it under control but lost his grip on the reigns and fell to the ground as the horse galloped off. Kyra darted over to help, trying to avoid the arrows whistling around her.

She reached him and offered him a hand but jumped back to avoid a vicious punch. Ulfric leapt to his feet and turned on her, his face wild with anger.

"You traitor! You would sacrifice your brothers and sisters for the false cause of the Imperials? I should have killed you on sight!" The air rippled with power as Ulfric roared and she recognised it as the thu'um, instantly becoming more wary.

She opened her mouth to respond, to say she wasn't part of the Imperials, that she had no wish to be, but before the words emerged, she became aware of someone behind her, their presence heavy and foreboding. She whirled around, trying to control the adrenaline that was flooding through her, and was met with an Imperial soldier, his heavy battleaxe raised high and a mad anger in his eyes.

The metal was stark against the pale blue of the sky as it started to descend on her, seemingly in slow motion. She managed to drag her swords up into a clumsy block, forming a v-shape. As the weapons met, vibrations echoed up her arms and they trembled as she struggled against the brute force of the Imperial.

Muscles cording on his arms, he forced her back a few steps, the axe edge gradually creeping closer to her head. Realising it was futile, she swung her swords on the side and twisted to avoid his weapon as it plunged towards the ground. Luck was on her side. It became embedded in the ground and the Imperial was forced to wrench it from the ground, giving her valuable time to recover. Even as he raised his axe once again to try and attack her, she darted forwards, feinting with one of her swords and slicing the other in a quick motion across his throat.

A haunting gurgle filled the air as he spluttered. His hands lost their grip on his sword and he sunk to the ground, his eyes glazing over before he reached the earth.

Taking a quick moment to catch her breath, she glanced around at the chaos around her. Imperials had descended on the Stormcloaks and were now steadily pushing through their unprepared defenses. Bodies of Stormcloaks dotted the ground, far more than that of Imperials, and she felt anger rush through her. She started towards the nearest Imperial - only taking a moment to see that Ulfric was struggling to hold his own against a group of five soldiers- but was brought short when she realised the Imperials weren't killing any Stormcloaks. No, they were disarming them and knocking them unconscious, but seemed to be going out of their way to ensure that none were killed.

A flicker of fear ran through her before she ruthlessly crushed it down. There was no apparent reason for them not being being killed, aside from two options, each worse than the last. There was either to be a public execution, to provide an official end to the war - that is, if Ulfric was captured - or a way to extract information about the war. Neither would end well for her.

She threw herself into the nearest group of Imperials, staying cautious but trying to bring as many down as she could. She swept among them, sweat dripping down her face, and when swords failed, used kicks to bring the soldiers to their knees where they could be easily dealt with.

She was just beginning to feel the first flicker of hope as she plunged her swords into a particularly annoying Imperial, when the world suddenly tilted on its side. Her head snapped back and pain blossomed like a flower in her head.

She blinked. Somehow she was now lying on the floor. Grass was ticking her nose. Sounds of fighting were echoing around her but they seemed to come from a distance. Her thoughts worked sluggishly.

A face floated into view. An Imperial. He was grinning.

"Give Ulfric my love," he jeered, before an armoured foot descended on her face.

Blackness took her.

* * *

She felt as though she was floating, her head wrapped in a cloud. It would have been peaceful, save for the aching in her head, and the growing feeling that something was out of place.

A bird trilled, the melodic notes sounding as though they were covered by a film of water. The sound gradually cleared the haze from her head, shaking off the last remnants of unconsciousness and her eyelids fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes.

Bright light blinded her and she blinked as she tried to shield her eyes from the glaring sun, but found she couldn't. That was the first indication something was wrong. Rope viciously bound her hands together, the strands chafing away her skin and leaving her wrists raw and bloody. Instinctively, she tested the strength of them but the Imperials certainly knew what they were doing.

"I guess you're not a spy after all then."

A voice startled her and she looked up, her gaze landing on a young blond-haired man sitting opposite her. Ralof. His hands were bound, same as hers, and his expression was grim. Blood coated the side of his face.

"You figured that out then," she said sarcastically but immediately felt guilty. He had only been doing what he thought was the right thing. Kyra sighed, glancing briefly over at the person sitting next to her and frowned.

"Who are you? I didn't think you were with the Stormcloaks."

The man snorted, shaking his head. "I'm not. I only stole a horse. Don't know why they arrested me."

She started to smirk. "Was it black? Tall? White socks?"

The man frowned. "Yes, why?"

"That's the horse Ulfric was riding before it bolted." She chuckled slightly. "No wonder they arrested you."

The thief looked enraged as he started to turn a shade of mauve that perfectly complemented the sky. He turned on the final person in the carriage. "It's your fault! It's your fault I'm here! You should just take your stupid war and shove it where the sun don't shine!" he growled, spittle flying from his mouth.

For his part, Ulfric just glared at him, somehow managing to look stern and imperious despite the gag over his mouth.

The thief continued his rant as his face slowly changed from mauve to red. "You're the reason I'm here! The Empire was nice and lazy before you came along, but you had to ruin that, didn't you? And now we're all heading to our deaths but there's nothing we can do about it!"

As much as she hated to admit it, the thief was right. None of them were in a position to do anything to save themselves.

She tried to dismiss the thought unsuccessfully. She felt completely, utterly helpless. She may have been in difficult situations before, but in all of them, she had at least some resemblance of control over the outcome. Here, she was at the mercy of the gods.

Distant voices sounded from the Imperials, and hearing the word 'headsman' uttered bought bile to her throat. She swallowed, and internally sent a quick prayer to Arkay and Talos, the latter being partly for a smack in the face of the Imperials. The thief had the same idea, although his prayers grew increasingly panicked as they drew closer to the village. Helgen, she recognised it as now.

A thought struck her as she glanced at the carriage slowly trundling behind her. "Where are the rest of the Stormcloaks?"

Ralof looked at her, frowning.

She sighed and continued. "No doubt some of them died in the ambush. But the Imperials went to great lengths to only injure, not kill. Even the arrows were shot with a certain precision, aside from the first. There are only around five Stormcloaks here, not including, me, the thief, or Ulfric. Jarl Ulfric," she added. "So where are the rest?"

Ralof frowned. "I don't know. But I guess it's too late to worry about that now. It won't affect us." He ended with a heavy sigh as the carriage started to slow.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief questioned, his face pale and his eyes wide in their sockets.

"Why do you think? End of the line." Ralof replied, his voice heavy, but the attempt at black humour made Kyra chuckle a bit. She blamed it on nerves.

Ralof stood, glancing at her, his eyes softening. "Let's go, we shouldn't keep the god's waiting for us."

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" the thief pleaded. Kyra ignored him. At the start, she had felt sympathetic for him, but now she needed to focus on keeping herself together and not cry. She had no time for anyone else. Ralof replied instead as she shuffled to the edge of the cart, and jumped, almost losing her balance as she fell to the ground.

Over the faint buzzing in her ears, she heard the female captain tell the prisoners to step towards the block one at a time when their names were called.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm" a stocky Imperial called out, and Ulfric moved forwards, his head held high.

"It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric." Ralof said, as he too was called forwards.

The horsethief's name, Lokir, was announced shortly afterwards, but as Kyra watched, his face hardened with resolve. "No! I'm not a rebel, you can't do this!"

He took off at an awkward run with his hands still bound. Kyra watched sadly, knowing he was going to his death either way.

The archers took aim on command, arrows whistling towards him. One hit its target and he kneeled over in an undignified way, becoming just another corpse. She wished he had not chosen the coward's way out, but found she couldn't truly blame him.

The female captain glared at them. "Anyone else feel like running?"

"Wait." The stocky imperial was looking at her. "You there, step forward." Kyra had no choice but to obey.

"Who are you?"

She clenched her teeth, and looked him in the eye. May as well make a lasting impression. She knew her eyes were unusual, the iris resembling that of the swirling night sky, complete with the purples and reds of the constellations. A unique form of hetrochromia, her mother used to say, but she still didn't know what that meant.

"I am Kyra Nightingale, previously known as Nightingale in the land of Morrowind," she answered formally, instinctively choosing a posher accent, and watching for any sign of recognition. There was none, but she wasn't surprised. As well as she was known in Morrowind, it was unlikely anyone here, aside from Dunmer, would recognise her. Not that it would do any good now.

Hadvar, as she later found out was his name, looked at the female captain. "What should we do? She's not on the list."

"Forget the list. She goes straight to the block."

The ringing in her ears was louder now, and she could barely hear Hadvar talking to her. She closed her eyes, focusing on stilling her shaking hands and partly succeeded.

Tullius stepped up to Ulfric, and started a lengthy monologue that Kyra started to tune out - before she was brought back into reality by a distant roar, carried on the whistling wind. She tensed, the roar seeming to pull at some primal part of her.

Tullius looked a little shaken, but recovered quickly. "It's nothing. Carry on."

She wanted to yell at him that, yes, it most definitely was something. She shook uncontrollably now, the ringing in her ears worst than ever. Her blood sang as though she was about to enter a fight, and the feeling that something was wrong worsened. Yet somehow, she knew it was nothing to do with the headsman waiting for her. No, it was something much older than that and the roar was something to do with it.

"Oh, let's just get on with this." The voice of a Stormcloak broke the tense silence as he strode forwards, limping slightly. She recognised him as the one who had first discovered her.

He knelt down, wincing but turned his head to the side so the Imperials wouldn't see his weakness. The headsman raised his axe, and with a smoothness that belied the finality of it, brought it down in a fluid motion on the Stormcloak's neck.

The Stormcloak's head gently rolled away, trailing splatters of blood that glistened dimly in the sun. Sorrow stirred within her. She didn't even know his name. It seemed important. She should have known his name - but it seemed as though he was already a ghost.

The calls of the townsfolk echoed in her ears, and she felt as though she was floating again. She couldn't take her eyes off the axe.

"Next, Kyra Nightingale!"

As though through a heavy fog, she heard herself called, and her legs moved forwards of their own accord. She was vaguely aware of people talking around her yet their voices passed over her, not leaving any impression on her brain. Her stomach contracted and she choked as another roar sounded. Or was that her imagination? Either way, it wouldn't matter now.

Kyra knelt down, the wooden block cool against her throat. The fog in her mind swirled as her stomach quivered with wrongness, making her want to throw up. Adrenaline pumped through her body, urging her to do something. Even on the verge of death, her body never stopped believing in her. What a strange thought, she idly wondered.

Above her, she was vaguely aware of the inevitable fall of the axe. She closed her eyes and waited.

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 **So, what are your thoughts? Thanks for reading, and see you next time!**


	2. Set in motion

**Another chapter? And so soon? I must really want to write this. Thank you so much to my three amazing reviewers:**

 **ProcrastinationQueen99- Thanks for taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

 **TimeLordPrime- Your review really made me smile, you're certainly right when you say she has a hidden past, but saying any more would ruin the story xD**

 **sakitty- I apologise for the predictableness of the last chapter, and possibly this one too, but there are a few hidden ideas intertwined that will come into play later. So find them if you can! ;)**

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A roar blasted her back into reality, her eyes snapping open. The fog in her head lifted, and she reacted instinctively, flipping herself to the side just in time to avoid the axe which fell where her head had been a second ago. The body of the headsman followed, his eyes glazed over in death. She could see herself reflected in them.

Falling to the floor, she raised her eyes to the black beast towering above her. A dragon. There was nothing else it could be. His eyes - for she somehow knew it was male - met hers and it seemed as though she was looking into a tunnel of darkness, promising her pain and fire and death. The mouth of the dragon opened again to unleash another torrent of fire, but someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her away. She turned to see Ralof holding her, his face panicked.

"Come on! The gods won't give us another chance. This way!" he shouted, gesturing towards the nearest tower.

Regaining her senses, she felt her battle instincts kick in. She followed him without a word, weaving in and out to avoid the flames raining down, and reached the doorway to the tower without injury. Inside, Ulfric Stormcloak stood, his face holding well disguised worry. He turned to Ralof as soon as they entered, checking to make sure his soldier was unharmed as Ralof spoke to him.

"Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

Ulfric spat out his gag, his face twisting with disgust. "Legends don't burn down villages." His voice was husky and deep. A roar from the dragon outside had him clutching for his nonexistent sword and adopting a battle stance. Ralof jumped into action, evidently having made up his mind to accept the situation, legend or not. He turned to address Kyra, who had been looking for an exit.

"We need to move now," he said, severing her binds with a dagger as well as his own. She massaged her wrists gratefully as Ralof hurried up the winding staircase, glancing around to check whether Kyra was following him. She was.

Perhaps it was a sixth-sense, or maybe it was the feeling of wrongness that was still trembling in Kyra's stomach ever since she had heard the dragon, that prompted her to shout out to Ralof. Whatever it was, she couldn't explain it, and would only dwell on it later. At her cry, Ralof paused, looking back at her inquisitively. As he did, the wall above him exploded in fire and stone, causing the upper part of the staircase to shudder and collapse. Both of them flinched, ducking down and shielding themselves from the barrage of hot air that followed. The fall of rocks eventually stopped, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the tower.

Ralof glanced at her wordlessly and Kyra looked back, just as speechless at him, before she shook herself, running up to join him.

He coughed, his eyes streaming. "See that inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going. We'll follow when we can!"

Kyra opened her mouth to argue that she would stay with him, but knew it would do no good. This was a soldier who wouldn't leave his commander, and in his eyes, she was just a civilian. "Thank you," she said instead.

He gave a half-hearted smile, and clapped her on the back. "I'll catch up with you soon, you have my word. I won't let you continue alone."

Bless. He must think she was a damsel in distress. Regardless, he was a good man, anyone could tell that, and she smiled at his back as he turned and hurried back down the stairs to Ulfric, who was helping some wounded Stormcloaks.

Kyra turned her focus to the hole in the wall, and climbed closer, balancing herself on the rocks. They were still hot after the torrent of flames that had been unleashed on them and she hastily withdrew her fingers, then quickly measured the distance to the other side. She couldn't waste any time.

Taking a deep breath, she bent her legs and leapt across. She hung weightless in the air for a minute, wind whistling in her ears, before the floor of the inn flew up to meet her. She grunted as she collided with it, but didn't pause as she hauled herself up, her heart hammering, and ran across the weakened floorboards. A large hole in the floor provided an opportunity, and she jumped down lightly, landing in a crouch in the ground.

Amongst the fire and ruin, she spotted Hadvar, the stocky Imperial. Kyra hesitated for a minute before running over. Five minutes earlier he had been happy to kill her, but now, she needed an armed person. She had no weapon and was in no position to defend herself.

He didn't look at her when she reached his side. "Follow me if you want to stay alive," he said but his attention was elsewhere. He took off at a run, Kyra following.

Hadvar paused between a building and a stone wall, and told her to stay close to the wall, looking at her for the first time. She took his advice, and they started moving at a half-walk, half-run.

A shadow loomed over them and with a crash, the black dragon landed on the wall, his spiky tail coiling on the floor. His maw opened, and Kyra threw herself into Hadvar, wrapping her arms around his legs and bringing him crashing to the floor. A burst of fire passed close overhead, and Kyra choked on the hot air, feeling it spiral down her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes as she coughed and coughed again, unable to stop. She felt two gauntleted hands pull her to her feet roughly, but looking into Hadvar's eyes, she saw a glimmer of concern.

"I'm fine," she managed to choke out when the coughing subsided slightly, but her eyes were still blurry with tears. She dashed them away as Hadvar let go of her and they continued on through a gap in the wall. After a while of jogging and weaving around the fires, they exited into an open space where a few mages, soldiers and General Tullius were counter-attacking the dragon with arrows and fireballs.

 _ _Fools,__ she thought, __fire won't hurt the World-eater. He was born bathed in flames.__ For a brief moment, the thought was so familiar, so well-known, that she just accepted it. Then common sense caught up, and the familiarity scared her. The sentence didn't even make sense, especially when it sounded as though 'World-eater' was an honorific. __What was she thinking?__

She pushed it to the back of her mind with effort, but she knew it was still lurking there. Whatever 'it' was. But right now, she needed to focus on staying alive.

Kyra only had a brief warning in the form of widened eyes from some of the mages before she came aware of a boulder hurtling towards her. She dove to the side, but wasn't quick enough to escape the shrapnel that exploded from the boulder as it crashed to the ground. A sharp piece of rock slammed into her shoulder and she was knocked back a few steps. It took an effort not to yell out. She could feel warm blood trickling down her side. It wasn't deep, barely a graze, but that only made it more painful, especially as she was sure there was still pieces of rock embedded there. __Pay attention to your surroundings, goddamn it,__ she told herself sternly.

Looking around, she saw Hadvar gesturing to her and followed him, using the ache in her shoulder to sharpen her mind. Just in front of her and Hadvar, Ralof appeared. Spotting her, he stepped forwards, before taking note of her company and drawing his sword. Hadvar did the same, scowling.

Kyra growled under her breath at the stupidity of men, before interjecting in a dry voice. "In case you guys hadn't noticed, there __is__ a dragon currently trying to kill us all…"

It seemed to do the job, as, with a final scowl and a curse, they both sheathed their weapons, and went in two directions, both calling for her to follow in expectant tones.

After a brief moment of indecision, she abandoned Hadvar and jogged to meet Ralof, who greeted her with a grin. "Well, I do keep my promises," he said, a glimmer of laughter appearing in his eyes.

Kyra rolled her eyes. "Come on, we need shelter," she said, pushing the door open to the keep.

The interior of the keep was surprisingly light for a place with no windows. She walked forwards, searching for a door before a crash behind her made her whirl around, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive action. Ralof was laying on the floor, having tripped over a chair. He was squinting, as though struggling to see in bad lighting. She chuckled, relaxing slightly as he leapt to his feet, frowning at her, before he moved slowly to the side of the room and lit a torch, putting it in a wall bracket.

"Ah, much better," Ralof smiled. Kyra scowled in bemusement, but didn't say anything.

His gaze landed on the corpses of two Stormcloaks. He went to them and leaned over, muttering a prayer to speed them on their way to Sovengard. "You may as well take their armour, if it fits you, and their weapons. We'll likely meet Imperials on our way out. But leave the fighting to me if you want."

Kyra laughed internally. So he still thought she was someone who needed protecting? She nodded anyway, and pulled the smaller set of armour on over her clothes. Both the Stormcloaks had a short sword, so she picked them up, one in either hand and tested their weight. They weren't what she was used to, being quite a bit lighter, but that would mean more maneuverability during a fight.

She turned around to see Ralof staring at her. "You know, you'd probably be better off with just one. They're probably too heavy for you, and…" He trailed off under the glare Kyra gave him.

"I'm sure I can manage just fine," she said shortly. Ralof put his hands in the air.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get hurt, that's all."

Kyra opened her mouth to reply, but her stomach jolted. Then the dragon roared directly overhead, and a massive crash sounded, pieces of rubble raining down on them.

As soon as the rocks stopped moving, Ralof darted over and glared at the pile of boulders now blocking one of their exits.

"Looks like our decision is made for us," he said. "Keep your eyes open for Imperials."

He set off first, his sword out in front of him, with Kyra following behind, keeping her tread as light as possible. It was just as well, for the first room they came to held two Imperials gathering supplies. Ralof and Kyra were still unnoticed, hiding in the shadows. Time for her to prove to Ralof that she wasn't as helpless as she appeared. She tapped him on the arm, and pointed first to herself and then to the soldiers. Ralof's eyes widened, but before he could do anything, Kyra was already creeping towards the Imperials. She knew he was following, but hopefully he would stay out of the fight until he thought she was in danger.

Silently drawing her sword back, she gently tapped on the tallest soldier's other shoulder. He whirled around in the opposite direction from her. She sliced her sword down on his shoulder, following up with the other sword in a fluid motion across his neck. His eyes went wide as he gurgled, his lifeblood slipping away between his fingers. She spun to avoid a sword from the shorter soldier, and kicked a bucket up from the floor. It flew towards his face and he ducked to avoid it. Fatal mistake. He took his eyes off her for a split second, in which she lunged forwards with both swords and plunged them into his chest. His face went slack with death immediately and he fell to the floor with a crash, the sword falling from his lifeless hand.

Killing people still wasn't easy for her, but she was glad it wasn't. She was one of the lucky ones who could maintain their morals but still kill someone if the situation demanded it.

Wiping the blood off her swords on his armour, she glanced at Ralof, who was staring at her with a growing grin. "You did all that on purpose, didn't you? Making me think you were untrained," he said, before he burst into laughter as Kyra watched in amusement.

"While it's probably a little funny, does it warrant all this laughter?" Kyra asked. He looked at her, and cleared his throat, although he was still smiling a little.

"It's just that you remind me of someone. She used to love appearing unassuming, and when you least expect it, she would kick your ass into tomorrow. I think you'd get on well with her."

She grinned. "Well, if we get out of here alive, hopefully I can meet this person."

"I'm sure we will. And I apologise for being so foolish earlier. It was just a shock for me, seeing you pick up those two swords, when it was firmly embedded in my mind that you had no experience with such things."

"That's good though. If you think that, my enemies will too. Anyway, come on! We've probably still got a way to go."

They continued on through various rooms before she signalled for him to stop. He looked at her. "What is it? I don't hear anything."

She ignored him and crept closer to the doorway, peeking in. As she did, anger rose in her. It must have shown on her face, for Ralof looked at her questioningly. She shook her head, and whispered. "We'll take this one together. It's a torture chamber. Only two people, but they're mages. There's Stormcloaks fighting them but they're losing."

Ralof paled at the word torture, but nodded, his face set. Kyra nodded once, then threw open the door, sprinting as fast as she could towards the two figures, who turned in shock to meet the new threat. She was aware of Ralof zig-zagging behind her to avoid the ice shards thrown at him. The mage in front of her raised his hands to shoot another spell at her, but she collided with him hard, both of them falling to the floor. She tasted blood in her mouth. He looked at her woozily, blood seeping from a wound on his head. Raising a sword, she drove it through him, and he died instantly.

The other mage had been easily finished off by the new Stormcloaks, helped by Ralof. Kyra eyed the other Stormcloaks warily, but the male soldier greeted Ralof warmly, who was now quietly conversing to them, with an urgent note in his tone.

"Who's this one then?" A Stormcloak gestured towards Kyra. "I'm assuming ally, otherwise she'd be dead by now."

"Someone who wants to live just as badly as you," she replied neutrally.

The same Stormcloak looked appraisingly at her. "Ey, that's a damn good answer. You can wield those swords pretty well, from what I saw. You fancy helping out a good cause, come along to Windhelm. Jarl Ulfric's always looking for people."

"It's beginning to look like a good idea more and more. I didn't know the war was quite this bad." Kyra replied, rolling her shoulder to loosen them up a little, but winced when it aggravated her injury.

"You aren't from Skyrim? Huh, I'm surprised. You had that Skyrim look about you. And I don't mean just cos you're a Nord."

"Oh, I am from Skyrim. I haven't been here for over six years though. I went travelling." She refused to say any more to a stranger, albeit a seemingly pleasant one. He seemed to pick up on the tone for he didn't ask anything else, instead offering his name.

"I'm Savard, and she's Fralia," he said, nodding towards the other Stormcloak.

"Kyra," she said. "Kyra Nightingale."

* * *

The four of them emerged from the cave entrance, tired and aching, but alive. The setting sun cast soft shadows on the ground, leaves swaying softly in the evening breeze as the distant sound of a flowing river mingled with the haunting howls of a wolf pack. Kyra sat down on the ground, letting out a sigh of relief as her muscles relaxed for the first time in hours, drinking in the sight. Now, she could finally appreciate the beauty her home without death looming over her.

A now familiar roar made her look to the sky, and she saw the black dragon gliding away to the horizon. She watched him go, content with the knowledge that he was too far away to harm her.

A hand landed on her back, and she looked around to see Ralof. "We should find a place to camp for the night. We won't be able to reach Riverwood before the moons come up, and I don't think any of us would be able to put up much of a fight after what we've just been through."

"Couldn't agree more!" Savard strolled up to join them. "Those damned spiders near had me. Nice back flip, by the way," he added, glancing at Kyra.

 _ _It hadn't really been a proper back flip__ , Kyra thought, but didn't correct him. She hauled herself up instead, left the two men chatting with each other, and went to join Fralia. She seemed to be inspecting the ground underneath a tree and looked up as she approached.

"This will do for tonight. The tree will give a little shelter from the wind, but it shouldn't be too cold. I doubt we'll even need to build a fire," Fralia informed her, her tone as brisk as usual.

Kyra just nodded as Ralof and Savard joined them.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to sleep for about a week, starting now," Savard said, and threw himself on the ground, shuffling a little to make himself comfortable.

Fralia frowned disapprovingly, and Savard grinned up at her. "Come on, lighten up a little!"

"Someone needs to keep guard. I don't want to risk any more attacks, be they dragon or wolf."

Ralof glanced at everyone before replying. "We'll take turns, it'll be easier."

Kyra volunteered to go first, and there were no complaints. She did earn some questioning glances when she climbed up into the tree, but no one said anything.

Settling herself into a comfortable crook into the tree, she relaxed, watching the setting sun dip below the horizon. The land looked as though it was bathed in blood for a few minutes before darkness covered it, slowly creeping across.

* * *

 **Reviews make my day and will mean a quicker update! Until next time...**


	3. An old friend

**Hello again! Apologies for this chapter, it is only a filler but a couple of important points are mentioned. I feel like it's a little too choppy, but I hope you all enjoy regardless.**

* * *

They said goodbye to Savard and Fralia in the morning. Savard was meeting with his family, while Fralia was on her way back to Windhelm to rejoin Ulfric. Kyra was secretly glad to see Fralia go. Neither of them had gotten on particularly well with the other. Savard, however, had his own unique charm. He gave her a cheeky kiss on the cheek and a wink as he left, but both of them knew it was in jest.

The sun was just appearing from behind a group of clouds when Kyra and Ralof found themselves halfway to Riverwood. They had been walking in a companionable silence, but Ralof cleared his throat. He looked hesitant, as though he was searching for the right words. She waited.

"You know, I never did thank you for saving me when that beast collapsed the side of the tower." He trailed off again, before looking at her sideways. "So, how did you know that would happen?"

She was thankful for the wording. "I didn't know the side would collapse. I had no idea that was going to happen."

"But you did know something was going to happen. How?"

Damn. She paused, wondering what to tell him. "I don't know," she said at last, honestly. "I just felt that something would happen, and it did."

"Ah." Ralof said. "I had a friend who had a sixth-sense for danger. It's pretty damn useful."

It seemed that he had dismissed it as being just one of those things that occasionally happen, nothing to think of. She was grateful. How could she explain that it wasn't that, how could she explain the jolting she felt deep within her whenever she faced the dragon? He would never believe her, and she was content to leave it like that.

"So, your eyes are pretty unusual. I guess you get told that a lot, huh?" Ralof said, turning the conversation to safer waters when the gap of silence grew too long.

She nodded. "Yes, it's called hetrochromia if your eyes aren't the same colour throughout. Mine are a lot more pronounced than others, as I have such a mix."

"They are rather unusual! But I do know someone who has different coloured eyes. My partner's brother has one green, one brown."

"Partner? Who's the lucky girl then?" Kyra smirked.

"Eveda. I've only known her for under a year but…yeah. She's thinking of joining the Stormcloak rebellion soon. I'm sure you'll get to meet her at some point."

The light conversation continued throughout the day, and late afternoon saw them walking into Riverwood at a leisurely pace. Neither of them had been up to walking fast, especially not having eaten for over a day, and Kyra's shoulder had meant their pace was slowed a little. She had applied a basic salve with a few herbs from her rudimentary knowledge of alchemy, but although it wasn't grave, the trapped gravel shifted in her shoulder every time she took a step, forcing her to hold her shoulder in an uncomfortable position.

Ralof halted in front of a door, but before he could open it, it came flying open and caught him on the shoulder. A young boy rushed out and threw himself at Ralof, grinning. "Uncle Ralof! It's been ages! Have you killed any Imperials recently?"

He chuckled, and gently disengaged himself from the limpet grasp. "I'll be sure to tell you about some of my most recent adventures later tonight Frodnar. But right now, we need to both eat and relax. Both of us have had a very tiring past few days."

Frodnar blinked, noticing Kyra for the first time. "Who's that? Your lady-friend?" He grinned impishly when Ralof spluttered.

A kindly-looking woman emerged from the house, and greeted Ralof almost as enthusiastically as Frodnar, embracing him warmly. Kyra assumed this was his sister, Gerdur, and let them have a moment to reunite. Feeling slightly awkward, she stood nearby and shuffled her feet, raising a small plume of dust. She didn't notice Gerdur turning to her until she was suddenly enveloped in a warm hug. The pain in her shoulder spiked and she yelped, backing away.

"Are you alright, love?" Gerdur's sympathetic eyes assessed her. "You're injured," was all she said before she was ushering Kyra into the house, regardless of her protests that she was fine and didn't want to intrude on anything. Plonking her unceremoniously down on a stool, Gerdur peeled off the salve and winced in sympathy.

"I'm going to need to take out each piece of gravel. You certainly don't want the skin mending over the top of them."

"I've just sent Frodnar off to run around and find something to do. We need to talk," Ralof said as he came through the door.

"Yes, we do. I expect you to explain __exactly__ where you've been for the past few days and why I saw a __dragon__ , of all things, flying over this way," Gerdur demanded, fixing Ralof with a stern glare even as she tended to Kyra's shoulder, who winced as the first piece of gravel was dug out.

"All right, all right," Ralof said, smiling. He was obviously glad to see her again. "But first we need to eat."

Kyra's growling stomach agreed with him enthusiastically.

It wasn't long before Kyra's shoulder was neatly bandaged up and the table in front of them was collapsing with food. Gerdur had taken it seriously when they said they were hungry.

Ralof had briefly brought Gerdur up to speed on the events of the past few days, and now was regaling exaggerated stories to an eager Frodnar who was lapping it up. He seemed to enjoy telling the wild stories almost as much as his nephew. Gerdur watched with a fond smile as she tended to the fire, making warm shadows dance on the ceiling.

The darkness had settled in outside, and Kyra was feeling pleasantly warm and relaxed as laughter echoed in the room. Her eyes began to feel heavy and the flickering shadows became hypnotic in their movements, rippling across the ceiling. Before she knew it, her eyes had drifted shut as her body relaxed in the chair.

* * *

 _ _Warmth. Heat. She was floating in a mist of embers. The ashes brushed against her skin sending warm tingles through her, before a gentle breeze blew them away. They spiraled away into the darkness, the embers becoming stars afloat in a sea of silky blackness. She reached a pale hand up towards them and they flew down to meet her. Or rather, she rose up towards them. Wind caressed her hair, and she danced among the stars, swooping and rising high above the ground. The moon called to her and she flew towards it, the action of flying as natural as breathing and talking.__

 _ _She felt heat far beneath her on the ground and something uncoiled in her belly, a part of her that had been asleep. But it was weak at the beginning, and soon the heat from below grew and grew, twisting at her heels until her flight shuddered. She looked down.__

 _ _Flames rampaged underneath her, the rising sparks no longer comforting, but malicious eyes in the night. The fire threatened to overwhelm her, so she flew far away from it, hiding in the midnight blue of the night. But she was drifting in a graveyard of stars; their cold eyes wanted her in their dominion no more. She fell, tumbling down. The flames eagerly leapt up to greet her and they gripped her in a fiery embrace.__

* * *

She woke with a start, eyes flying wide.

"Hey, hey. Easy. I was only trying to wake you!" Ralof grinned good-naturedly at her. "Seems you're more tired than I thought, you must have been asleep a good hour."

Kyra looked out of the window, eyeing the pitch-blackness of midnight. "Right. Sorry." She paused. "Is there any chance I could stay here for just one night? I wasn't intending to but it's dark out and-"

Gerdur cut her off with a kindly smile. "It's no problem at all. You saved my brother's life, it's the least we can do for you. Take the spare room directly on your right as you go up the stairs, everything's clean."

When Kyra hesitated, Gerdur started gently ushering her towards the stairs, saying, "You look dead on your feet. Get some well deserved sleep. We'll be here in the morning."

She seemed to know exactly what to say, for Kyra felt the tension caused by her strange dream disappear. Stumbling up the stairs with sleep creeping in, she found the room easily enough and threw herself down into the bed. She closed her eyes as exhaustion overtook her. Her last coherent thought was that she hoped she didn't have another strange dream.

* * *

It was past midday when Kyra staggered out of bed, feeling refreshed and relaxed. Her hair was a mess and she probably stank to high heaven, but a quick bath in steaming hot water sorted that out. She quickly dried herself, but then looked at her clothes in dismay. There was no way she could walk around in the tatters that once resembled clothes. Sighing, she poked her nose in the large mahogany wardrobe out of curiosity, and to her surprise, found a clean set of clothes. Nothing fancy, but they would do. It was probably Gerdur's doing - she'd have to thank her as soon as possible.

Gerdur and Ralof weren't downstairs, so she headed out the door and spotted them relaxing in the sun, idly chatting. Gerdur looked around as she approached them. "Oh! I was going to wake you but you looked so peaceful I couldn't bring myself to. I see you're wearing the clothes, I got them off a neighbour. I'm so glad they fit you."

"No, no. You didn't have to do that for me, you really didn't. You've already done so much."

"Nonsense, it's no trouble at all love. Although, there is something you could do, if you feel up to it?"

Kyra arced an eyebrow. "What is it? I'd be glad to help if I can."

"It's nothing much, I just think that people should be aware of the dragon attack. Whiterun is closest to here, do you think you could journey there and inform the Jarl? I would get Ralof to do it, but he's going to head back to Windhelm at some point."

"I'm going to head there myself anyway, so I'll tell the Jarl. I was actually thinking of going now. I don't want to intrude on your hospitality any longer, and I have a friend there - Adrianne - who I haven't seen in many years."

Ralof gave a wry smile. "I was hoping I'd get to see more of you now, but I have a feeling we'll meet again at some point. Have you considered Savard's idea of joining the Stormcloaks? You'd fit in well there, I'm sure."

Kyra hummed thoughtfully. "To be honest, I haven't dwelt on it, but after I find my bearings, it's certainly a possibility. The sooner this war is over, the better. I don't want Skyrim torn apart any more than you do, and the only way for that to happen is if the Stormcloaks win. The banning of Talos worship and the presence of the Thalmor means that unrest will remain, even if the Imperials win. And another war will occur in the future. And so on. Unless the tide turns in the Stormcloaks favour and they win."

"Nicely said indeed." Gerdur smiled warmly at her. "It's good to see someone who has Skyrim's best interests at heart. Now if you're leaving today, let me give you a little money for your troubles, for speaking to the Jarl and everything." Gerdur placed a small coin purse in her hand.

Kyra wanted to refuse, but she knew Gerdur wouldn't accept that. Besides, she needed to buy some armour and weapons for the journey. Although the journey wasn't particularly dangerous, Skyrim was unpredictable at best. She accepted the money gratefully, even if it was charity.

"Be careful on the roads love. You will visit us again sometime, won't you?" Gerdur hugged her again.

"Of course I will. Thank you - for everything you've done. I appreciate it." She had enjoyed spending time with both of them, especially Ralof. He seemed to be able to make anyone laugh. Kyra was surprised to find herself missing him already, despite her wish to continue on alone.

"Don't mention it." Ralof gently clapped her on the back. "See you soon. You'll probably want to get going now, looks like there may be a storm heading. With luck, you'll be well on your way there before it hits."

After a few more goodbyes, Kyra set off, buying two short swords from the trading post down the road. It'd be enough to see her safely to Whiterun.

She made good progress on the road, stopping to set up camp when dusk came, and had reached her destination late the next day. The storm that had been brewing on the horizon had changed direction, so she sent a quick thank you to Kynareth as she neared Whiterun.

Halting in front of the familiar wooden gates that marked the entrance into Whiterun, she quirked her lips as she remembered the numerous trips here when she was younger. Her mum, having been an adventurer in her younger years, had wanted Kyra and her sister to see some of the sights Skyrim had to offer. The Bannered Mare had often served as a base, the three of them exploring the Hold of Whiterun and Falkreath, sometimes camping in the wilderness for days on end before returning to the safety of the inn. They had ventured into the Rift and the Reach, but never far north. Her mum had been wary of the dangers there, but promised to take them once they were proficient enough.

Kyra sighed, and moved forward to open the gate but her way was blocked by a guard.

"Halt! No one is allowed into Whiterun. News of a dragon attack. You'd best be going."

"I've come from Helgen, I saw the dragon. I need to let the Jarl know about it. There's been a request to protect Riverwood. Can I go in?"

The guard considered and then nodded shortly, steeping out the way. "Alright, but I've got my eye on you."

Kyra frowned at the unnecessary end to the sentence and pushed the gate open, entering Whiterun.

It was getting late, and the streets were quiet. The warmaiden's on her right was empty so she would have to meet Adrianne tomorrow. The Jarl could wait until then as well.

The inn provided a welcome sight as she headed towards it. Reluctantly handing over a few coins in exchange for a meal and a bed for the night, she settled down at the bar with an ale. She kept half an ear open for any interesting rumours, but many of the patrons seemed to be slurring their words already. She idly thought of ways to earn some more money. She would need some soon.

Maybe she could help out Adrianne at the forge. She would always welcome help, but she could deal with that in the morning. All she had to do was tell the Jarl about the dragon and then she was free to gain some money and explore Skyrim. Simple.

* * *

 _ _Or maybe not so simple after all,__ she thought, as she half-halfheartedly listened to the court wizard muttering about a tablet, which may or may not dwell within an ancient ruin. In fact, it may not even exist at all. And the best part? She was the one who had to find it. Great. Just great. Realising he was still talking, she tried to pay attention.

"It is __essential__ I decode it, it may be the key to destroying the dragons. Know thine enemy." He looked at her shrewdly. "Do you think you can bring it to me then? I'm sure the Jarl will reward you, if you're that type of person."

She frowned at the implication that she was merely a sellsword but let it pass. As it was, she did need the money.

"It shouldn't be a problem. I'd better be heading off now then. You know. Draugr to kill and all."

He frowned at her attempt at humour and then waved his hand, dismissing her rudely and turning his back. She bristled and stalked out of the room. __Court wizards. Stuck up arses, the lot of them. Who'd have thought I'd get roped into finding an ancient tablet after just informing the Jarl about a brief matter!__

Her inner mutterings carried her down the steps to Dragonsreach and she was almost at the door when she was jolted from her annoyed thoughts by the sound of her name. Looking around, she saw Adrianne striding towards her, a wide grin on her face.

"Kyra! I must be dreaming!"

She laughed and enveloped her friend in a hug. "It's good to see you too. It's been a long six years."

Adrianne pulled back, her smile fading as sympathy entered her face. "I heard about the bandits. I know it won't change anything, but I am sorry for what happened."

"It's alright. Really. I can't say I've forgotten it, but I can move past it now. But at least I'm back in Skyrim, I really have missed it."

Adrianne shifted her stance. "You looked annoyed as you were coming. Has anything happened I should know about?"

"I assume you heard about the dragon down in Helgen?" At Adrianne's nod, she continued. "I was there when it occurred. Don't worry, I'm fine, but I now have to find a Dragonstone in a ruin for the court wizard to investigate the return of the dragons. I mean, yes, I want to explore - but on my own terms, not someone else's."

"It sounds like we need to meet up properly. You can tell me all your problems, I can tell you all mine. After all, that's what friends are for!"

 _ _That's what friends are for.__ The words echoed in her head and she must have recoiled slightly because Adrianne started to look worried. Her gaze then turned assessing.

"You've changed. You…Kyra, are you alright?"

Kyra shook herself and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, was just remembering some of the vivid memories from when I want travelling. From Morrowind, actually. Once you get to know the Dark Elves, they can be a great laugh. As for changing, it has been over six years. You've changed too! Do I spot any grey hairs?" she joked.

Adrianne protested but there was laughter in her eyes.

"So, you were talking about meeting up?" Kyra prompted. And just like that, the topic of conversation was changed.

They talked for a little while longer, mostly pleasantries, before Kyra bid farewell. Once she had the tablet, she promised, they could meet up for a chat.

As soon as Kyra exited Whiterun, she sank to the ground and grimaced. Sometimes she hated her shockingly good memory and ability to lie. But no matter. She pulled herself to her feet, shook herself again, and set off towards the mountains.

* * *

 **Reviews really do make my day :) The next chapter will have more action, promise!**


	4. Glowing words

**Much more action as promised. Enjoy!**

* * *

The walk to Bleak Falls Barrow was long, wind and snow battling against her in the last part of her journey as she climbed higher into the mountains. Despite the frigid danger swirling around her, the scene had a certain frozen beauty to it. The sky was a pale blue at the horizon, and white snow clouds clustered together above her as flurries of snowflakes burdened the towering trees that dotted the ground. Fallen snow glittered, the iridescence highlighting the beauty.

Panting, Kyra struggled through thigh-high snow as her breath crystalised in front of her. Her time in Morrowind meant she was unaccustomed to the cold and although her Nord blood gave her some protection, it wasn't enough to prevent her fingers and toes from numbing.

Reaching a rise, she heaved a sigh of relief as her destination broke through the falling snow. She headed towards it, grateful that the walking part of her journey had come to an end, but a flash of movement from within the ruins had her crouching behind a snowdrift and drawing her bow in one fluid motion. Glancing over the top of it, she saw two bandits chatting with each other, almost obscured by the heavy snow - lookouts.

She crept slightly closer, taking care to find shelter behind trees until she was close enough to use her bow. Her fingers were clumsy from the cold, but she managed to draw back the arrow. She narrowed her sight, took a breath and let an arrow fly.

It flew true, whistling through the air before hitting the taller bandit with a dull thunk. He fell with a cry, and the other whirled around, drawing an axe. His face was a mask of anger. He started running towards the direction the arrow had come from, but before he could reach Kyra, she drew her bow back again and let another arrow fly. This one took him on the shoulder and he staggered before falling to the ground, axe tumbling out of his grasp.

Kyra stood warily and made her way over to him. The bandit was still alive, blood streaming sluggishly from his shoulder from between his pale fingers. His mouth worked but no words came out. Kneeling down beside him, she drew her sword and lay it on his throat. She felt no pity as she sliced it across in a smooth motion. She would never feel pity where bandits were involved.

The steps up to the Bleak Falls Barrow were slippery with snow and ice but she trod lightly. She still held her bow in her hand, but her swords, slung across her back in a V-formation, were within easy reach.

As she neared the iron door, she felt a weird sensation, as though the interior of the ruins was emitting some sort of power. She shook her head and the feeling faded as she pushed open the door and stepped into the gloom.

Silence clung to the air like silk, stifling and peaceful in equal measures. Dust hung over every surface, seemingly undisturbed, but she knew there were people, probably bandits, in the next room. She wondered how she knew that.

She crept along, her bow at the ready. Footsteps alerted her that they were close and she ducked behind an urn, spotting them not ten paces off. She killed one of them when his back was turned to her, a swift, fluid motion. The other was so preoccupied with polishing her sword that she didn't even realise her comrade was killed until he failed to answer a question. An arrow met her shortly after.

Kyra continued deeper into the ruin, staying in the shadows and picking off bandits when she came across them. Gradually, the ruin became darker as she ventured down deep into the ground. She was carefully avoiding an ancient trap when she heard a pitiful whine, the sound of a human, wavering in the air. She stayed cautious but carried on at a faster rate, readying her swords.

She entered a clearing and barely had time to register a man trapped in a tightly spun web before a shadow fell over her as a monstrous spider descended from the ceiling, all eight eyes fixed on her. It landed in front of her, and waved its legs in a sort of provocative manner. Kyra took a step back, catching her bearings before she threw herself at this new threat.

In the end, it was surprisingly easy. All it took was a few slices to the numerous legs before it was wobbling around, unable to walk, let alone attack her. A quick stab through the chest and Kyra was wiping off her swords as the spider died. Frostbite spider blood could be corrosive if it was left on too long. She remembered her mother telling her that.

She walked over to the man attached to the wall, wondering how he came to be so deep into this ruin. Without having to assess him, she knew he was full of deceit and lies. She could smell it on him.

His eyes were bloodshot and darting, and his beard was matted. Had this been any other circumstance, she would have avoided him, but perhaps he would know something about the tablet.

"Hey there! Yes you, the adventurer. You're looking for the tablet, aren't you?" She cocked her head and he must have noticed her sudden interest for he continued, talking faster as though racing to convince her of his lies and half-truths. "I know how to get to the tablet. You need a claw, a golden one. I can get it for you. You just need to cut me loose."

Kyra nodded, pretending to think. "Hmm yes. You see, I __could__ let you down. And then you'll run away without giving me this claw and I'll have lost my chance. And what a shame that would be. Or, I could simply kill you and be done with it. But I'm in a good mood right now. You give me the claw now, and then I'll let you down. No one needs to get killed. What do you say?" She smiled pleasantly.

He swallowed visibly. "Alright, alright. Th-there's no need to be so hasty. I can't reach the claw now, my hands aren't free. J-just let me down, I promise I'll give it to you." His voice grew more and more high-pitched as he spoke, and he nodded as though that would help get his point across.

"Fine. And __please__ don't try to fool me. You see, I really need that tablet."

She cut away the web surrounding him, stepping neatly to the side as he tumbled to the ground. She politely held out her hand for the claw, but instead of offering it to her, he breached all the unspoken laws of decorum and spat into the dirt as he swore. __By the nine, I hope he doesn't kiss his mother with that mouth,__ Kyra thought in vague amusement. But her amusement quickly dwindled when the man, the thief, suddenly leapt to his feet and sneered at her, his face twisting. Then he started running, disappearing from sight through the doorway. His voice floated back.

"Ha! You'll never catch me! The treasure is mine! It's my precious!"

Kyra sighed. Some people just never learn. She took off after him, but slowed her pace slightly when she heard signs of a combat in front of her.

Cautiously glancing through the entrance, she saw the thief trying to fend off three draugr and failing miserably. He had no skill with his rusty dagger and roared when a particularly dead looking draugr pierced him through. The thief fell to the ground with a soft thump, the golden claw tumbling from his pocket.

She must have made some sort of sound - perhaps she was breathing too loudly - because one of the draugr swung round and roared, eyes glowing and fixed on her. She heaved another sigh as all three came charging towards her, weapons brandished high.

She ducked beneath the first swing, and jabbed out, impaling the closest one. Blocking another blow, she swung her swords in a quick succession as she spun, easily beheading one and loping off the arm of another. Its weapon clattered to the floor and the arm fell beside it a second later. The draugr just looked at her, its expression a little gormless and confused - as much as a dead face can hold expression anyway. She put it out of its misery with a quick slice and its head fell to join the arm.

She quickly picked up the golden claw from beside the thief's body, tossing it in her hands and admiring the way it glittered despite the dimness of the interior.

Wary now, she continued deeper into the crypt as she pulled out her bow. The draugr became more numourous but she hid in the shadows and picked them off one by one. Their hollow roars echoed deep under the ground. They weren't much more difficult to kill than the bandits and probably had similar intelligence, if she was completely honest with herself. She settled into a routine, the familiar motions of drawing a bow almost a comfort.

After what seemed an age filled with draugr, she finally entered a long corridor barred by a circular door at the far end. The walls were covered with intricate markings. Stepping closer, she saw they depicted ancient battles, and heroes long past. She would have loved to stay and and uncover the lost knowledge but she had a mission.

The door at the end of the corridor looked as though it was comprised of three separate parts, each with an engraving of an animal. Exactly the same as the ones on the claw. She quickly worked out how to open the door and slid each section so the markings were matched up. With a dull rumble, the door gradually slid open, a guardian moving to reveal its secrets. She stepped inside, drawing her swords.

The inside was much larger than she had expected. The interior was essentially a large stone cavern, stretching as far as the eye could see. The far distance of the cavern was hidden from view, obscured by a misty vapour that twisted and twirled in the still air. Towering stone pillars held up the ceiling, like giants holding up the sky. It was as cold as a tomb, and perhaps it was.

She edged her way inside, and the mist cleared to reveal an impressive structure that looked as though it had been carved directly into the stone. A small flight of stairs led up to an oddly shaped wall. She felt some sort of power emanating from it, similar to the power she had felt when she first opened the door into Bleak falls Barrow.

She hurried closer, feeling as though she was being pulled towards it. Heart hammering in her chest and blood pounding like drums, she climbed the stairs, but she stopped in confusion a few feet from it when she realised she was actually hearing a sort of undulating sound similar to a drum. It wasn't her thundering blood, or a bard (although she did look around to check). No, it was coming from the wall.

Frowning, she paced closer, the pulsating beat becoming louder and louder as she did. As she approached the source of sound, her vision seemed to narrow. A section of the wall seemed to be glowing so she instinctively moved towards it until the glow resolved itself to form engravings of some sort, a language. Then the words grew brighter still, almost blinding her.

Eyes shut, she clenched her teeth, but she could still see them. They were imprinted on her mind, etched into her soul. And for a second, for a split second, she understood them, truly understood what they meant and everything they embodied. But that second passed, and with it the drums gradually faded, leaving her feeling almost alone.

She slowly opened her eyes, half fearing to be blinded again but the markings were no longer glowing, leaving the whole scene with an unmistakable feel of unreality. She felt as though she had imagined it. Surely she had imagined it. In fact, she probably would have convinced herself of it had she not been able to recall the markings with perfect clarity. It felt as though they were part of her now, firmly embedded within her.

There was also the fact that she was now buzzing. Her body felt as though it was quite literally on fire, warmth flowing through her and lightening sparking inside her. It wasn't painful, it was the exact opposite. She felt euphoric, her eyesight sharp and acutely aware of her body. But as she stood there, savouring in the sensation, the feeling slowly faded from her and she was left feeling cold and sluggish.

She let out a breath and moved forwards, but as she did, a door to a tomb she had overlooked in her haste flew open and fell to the ground. Dust rose from the cracked floor. A draugr overlord slowly sat up and turned its dead gaze on her. She cursed.

Battle instincts returning to her, she unsheathed her swords and brought them down on the overlord's shoulders before it could properly climb free from its stone prison. It staggered but showed no other sign of the damage as it pulled an axe out of, well, out of somewhere.

She ducked under its swing and kicked out with her leg. The draugr stumbled and she swung her sword, blocking a blow with the other. It bit into the overlord's chest but didn't go deep - stopped by the rib cage. But she hadn't expected it to. Kicking out again, harder this time, she smashed her foot into the same knee and felt bones splinter from the force. The overlord roared as it fell to one knee, but manage to raise its axe to block her supposed finishing blow. No matter. She raised her sword again to finish it, but as she did, the overlord opened his mouth, and some sort of __force__ leapt from his mouth and caught her unawares.

She was tossed backwards helplessly, her path ending when she hit the wall. Crumpled on the ground, she gritted her teeth and was promptly forced to roll to the side to dodge the overlord's axe. The draugr was standing, but favouring one leg.

 _ _Huh. I hadn't thought that draugr could feel pain. You know, being dead and all.__ Her musings were cut short when she had to dodge the axe again. Right. She has to finish this.

Leaping to her feet, she lashed out with both swords, feinting with one but driving the other forwards. The draugr backed off and she attacked in a whirlwind of slices and blows. The overlord was driven to its knees again and she drove a sword through its chest. The draugr let out a groan as it crumpled to the floor, becoming an inanimate body once more.

Chest heaving, she stretched, feeling her muscles ache. It was a good pain.

She spotted something lying next to the draugr's body. It was a rectangular piece of rock - the dragonstone, perhaps? She picked it up and examined it, but aside from some markings on one side, there was nothing to distinguish it from any other stone. Still, Farengar would have to accept it. There was nothing else that even resembled a dragonstone - whatever one of those even looked like.

So, all she needed to do now was return the tablet and find out whatever happened with the wall and the words. But first, she thought as she spotted a chest, she needed to grab any useful loot.

She snapped out of a trance and opened the chest, which was thankfully unlocked. Nestled within lay two ebony swords, both with a frost enchantment. There was also a spell book for summon bow. Perfect. They were just what she needed. She quickly read the spell book, absorbing knowledge of it, before testing out the ebony swords. They were perfectly balanced, able to respond to the slightest twitch of her hand. She was tempted to go through a few sword maneuvers to properly get a feel for them, but she had no inclination to spend any longer in this ruin. She felt unclean.

It was dusk by the time she managed to struggle outside. There was no way she was travelling during the night to Whiterun so she camped a little way off, having a surprisingly decent meal of rabbit roasted over an open fire and some berries she had managed to scavenge.

Nibbling on a berry, she thought over explanations for the weird occurrence with the word and the light. Looking at it logically didn't help her come to a conclusion, and strangely enough, neither did throwing one of her new swords at a tree in frustration. She felt guilty as soon as it left her hand but it had sunken into the tree like silk and was undamaged.

An idea struck her and she dug out the Dragonstone, holding it close to the firelight. Maybe it could give her some information.

The engravings seemed to show a map of some description, with scattered crosses at seemingly random areas. She tilted her head to the side, trying to decipher a meaning, but didn't come up with anything. And she had a feeling Farengar wouldn't want to share his secrets with her. Especially her.

Maybe Whiterun had a library. It was unlikely there would be anything useful to her there, but it was worth a try. Besides, she would have nothing better to do once she delivered the Dragonstone.

* * *

She reached Whiterun the next day, managing to keep up her good spirits. She had the tablet, two perfect swords and no more obligations to carry out. Well, aside from meeting up with Adrianne, but that wasn't really a chore.

Fervent words hurried from the mouth of the priest of Talos as she hurried towards the stairs. He fixed her with an intense stare but his following shy smile suddenly made him seem…well, less mad.

The Jarl was having a muttered conversation with Irileth as she entered. Irileth fixed her with a glare but she ignored her, instead heading to the side room where the court wizard was sure to be found.

He wasn't alone when she entered the room - there was a lightly armoured figure bent over a parchment of some description. Kyra tried to listen unobtrusively but couldn't get much information, only that they were talking about the dragons and the return of them, before Farengar noticed her.

"Oh, you didn't die then?"

Kyra closed her eyes briefly and recited through all the reasons why it would be a bad idea to attack him. Most important on her list was that she would likely die from the guards trying their best to kill her.

Sufficiently calmed, she fixed him with a glare and placed the Dragonstone down on the table with a little more force than necessary. He glared at her in return and she raised an eyebrow at him. Their little staring match would probably have continued had there not been a commotion at the door.

"Jarl Balgruuf needs to speak to you," Irileth said, addressing Farengar. "There's been a dragon sighting nearby." Farengar suddenly brightened, looking as though all his dreams had come true.

"You'd better come too," Irileth continued, speaking to Kyra now. __Sure, why the hell not__ , she thought sarcastically. __Nothing could possibly go wrong.__

Seeing Irileth look at her impatiently, she nodded and hurried after her, hearing Farengar just behind. Balgruuf was waiting for them, his arms folded and face creased with worry.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, my friends. I-" He was cut short by a guard bursting in, gasping for breath.

"I'm sorry for interruptin', my Jarl. I-I've come from the Western Watch Tower." His voice was muffled by his helmet.

"Yes soldier. What was the dragon doing when you left?"

"Nothin' much, it was just circling in the clouds, as though it was waiting for somethin' to come," the soldier gasped. His chest was heaving.

"Which direction did it come from?"

"The south. I swear, I've never seen anythin' move so fast in my life."

"Thank you soldier. Go and rest, you've certainly earned it."

The guard hurried off, still breathing heavily as Balgruuf turned to Farengar.

"I know you've always wanted to see this, but I can't allow you to go." When Farengar started to protest, he cut him off, but not unkindly. "You're simply too important to be put at risk. I'm sorry Farengar but that's my final word."

Farengar grumbled under his breath but gave in, walking from the room. It seemed as though he was already thinking of his next project.

"Irileth. Take some guards, get them down there. We need the best on this. I'll not have my town put in danger."

"Already done, my Jarl."

"Good. Now, Kyra. You have more experience than anyone else when it comes to dealing with dragons. I want you down with them on the front lines."

Kyra laughed at first, and then sobered, realising he was serious. "What? I've seen a dragon once, that doesn't mean I'm suddenly a dragon slayer. Sorry, but it just isn't going to happen."

* * *

 **I actually had great fun writing this chapter. It was originally half this length but I tagged a bit on the end :) See you next time!**


	5. Mirmulnir

**Here's another chapter...the long awaited dragon attack! And as an added bonus, the first introduction to the love interest...**

* * *

 _ _Bloody court wizards. Bloody jarls. Bloody dragons__. Kyra ran alongside the guards, glaring at the ground. She should have known she'd get roped into doing something else. But dragons? Really? Just because she had seen one, didn't mean that she was suddenly an expert on them.

The soldiers who were running next to her certainly didn't think so either. They kept darting quick doubtful glances at her, wondering why she had been chosen to defeat the dragon with them. She ignored them and started to prepare mentally for the battle, counting her breaths as she ran towards the Western Watchtower.

It appeared to be abandoned when they arrived, the ruins slowly smoldering and rubble scattered on the ground, like the work of a careless god. Smoke spiraled into the air, seeking escape.

Soldiers split off from the main party at Irileth's order to search the surroundings for survivors. A shout came from above them and they looked up to see a guard waving frantically at them.

"No! It's still here! It's hiding in the clouds!"

Kyra felt a sense of doom settle within her and, along with the rest of the guards, turned her gaze towards the sky. But there was no sign of movement anywhere. The sky was clear, the deep blue unbroken by clouds. Nothing was there.

She frowned. It didn't make sense. The dragon wouldn't simply abandon the tower when there was clearly still prey; it was a matter of pride for them. And the soldier had no reason to lie.

…Unless the dragon was too clever for that.

Fists clenched, she slowly turned around. A reptilian head was snaking over the partly collapsed wall, eyes fixed on her as wings rose up like shrouds of death. She thought she saw a glimmer of… _ _something__ within them as she threw herself backwards as hard as she could, yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Dragon!"

At her shout, the guards pulled their gaze from the sky and whirled around, unsheathing their weapons as they did. The dragon's wings beat once, twice, and then it was soaring into the air, easily avoiding arrows by twisting and wheeling, a sinuous ribbon in the sky.

Kyra raised her hand, recalling her new-found knowledge of summoning a bow, but the dragon suddenly folded its wings, tucking them into its body and plummeted to the ground. Flames roared from its mouth as wings suddenly snapped open again and it created a blazing trail of fire along the ground.

Men leapt out of the way, some beating their clothes frantically where the fire had caught. She bounded out of the way along with them.

But she misjudged the distance. Her legs seemed to carry her further than expected and she stumbled on the scattered stones. Her foot landed on a rock which darted away from her weight. Pain lanced up her leg as her ankle went in the opposite way to her body.

Gritting her teeth, she tried to put weight on it but it trembled and collapsed and she fell to the ground. She choked off a cry, mindful of the violence around her. She had no healing potions, and no knowledge of healing spells. __Damn it__ , she cursed, anger rising in her.

She glanced at her foot and gagged, feeling bile rise in her stomach. Splintered bone was sticking out of her ankle, blood running in rivulets down her skin. __Well, what would certainly explain why it hurts so much,__ she thought darkly as she closed her eyes briefly. Probably not the best thing to do on a battle field, but she would be no use to anyone if she couldn't focus through the pain.

Something curled in her stomach.

A sudden crash that shook the ground made her eyes fly open and her hopes fall. The shadow of the dragon had fallen over her, blocking out the weak sun with an armoured body. Its jaw was gaping wide, the flicker of flames deep in its throat beginning to climb as its neck snaked towards her until they were less than a foot away. She tensed as she felt the heat from the dragon's belly on her face and looked away, shutting her eyes and waiting for her inevitable demise. She flinched when she heard a dull rumble, like thunder, and waited, muscles quivering.

She waited.

And waited.

Seconds flew past.

Frowning and opening her eyes, she gradually came to the conclusion that she still had a body. So she wasn't ash. Yet.

Not wanting to tempt fate but too curious for her own good, she risked a glance towards the dragon. She could swear it looked puzzled.

There was a clenching in her stomach, not completely unlike the one she felt whenever the black dragon was near, but it seemed to be more…hopeless? Angry? No, that wasn't the right word, but her language seemed to lack a way to describe the feeling. It was the sort of hopelessness that one feels at the realisation that ambitions cannot be achieved, of being unable to have power and dominance but wanting it nonetheless. An anger at the world and at mortality and at humans.

The feeling was so __human, so vivid,__ that she paused. The dragon drew back and Kyra opened her mouth to say something, but she didn't know what she was going to say. And she would never find out, for at that moment, a figure leapt in front of her and lashed out with a sword, catching the dragon across the face and rending a large cut.

Wings unfurling, the dragon recoiled. It roared, the air seeming to shimmer with power. Her ears were left ringing as the dragon leapt into the air, tail lashing out to sweep an unfortunate soldier off the wall.

The figure turned to face her and she was slightly surprised to see a Nord, a female, around the same age as her. Wind created by the powerful beating of the dragon's wing blew her chestnut hair across her face, angles sharp but eyes kind. She knelt down and grimaced when she saw Kyra's ankle.

"That looks painful. Would you like me to heal it for you?"

Kyra nodded dumbly, head whirling. Hands wreathed in the golden light of a healing spell, the stranger hovered her fingers over Kyra's injured ankle. Warmth trickled into her foot and the skin knitted flawlessly together, until no sign of her injury remained.

She glanced up at the stranger. She wanted to say thank you but questions whirled. __Who are you? Why are you here? Why did I feel that with the dragon?__ But only one question formed in her mouth.

"Why did you attack the dragon?"

The stranger stiffened, confusion crossing her features. "It was about to kill you! Or did you not notice that?" Her voice was filled with sarcasm, low and husky.

Annoyance filled Kyra. Annoyance at being at the mercy of this stranger, annoyance at not knowing why the dragon hadn't attacked her, annoyance at being injured so easily. She growled, hauling herself to her feet and turned on the stranger.

"No, it wasn't. Something was going to happen, but attacking me was __not__ one of them." With that, she drew her swords and stalked away from the stranger, towards the dragon who was wreaking havoc among the soldiers.

As she drew closer, she could see a drastic change in the dragon, and not just because it was injured, blood steaming from numourous wounds. It was uncoordinated, snarling and lashing out. It seemed as though it was now just a mindless beast. There was no sign of the intelligence she had seen before, no spark. And the feeling in her stomach had changed to pure, unadulterated rage and hatred.

With swing of its tail, the dragon sent guards flying through the air and turned on Kyra, fire simmering in its eyes. In front of her was a savage creature, one who was intent on murdering her. She was left with no choice.

Crouching, it leapt towards her, claws out. She ducked. As it sailed over her, she jammed her swords up into the unprotected area at the base of its throat. They sunk into the scaled skin to the hilts and she was forced to let go as the dragon's momentum carried it forwards. It initially landed on its feet, wobbled and tried to summon fire but failed. It sank to the floor and she walked warily over. Smoke wafted from its open mouth.

The shouting of humans around her should have given her an inclination of what was about to happen, but she was busy watching the dragon. It was only when a tide of men poured towards the fallen creature that she knew what they would do. But she couldn't do anything about it.

She watched in helplessness as the remaining guards descended on it, hacking and stabbing. The dragon roared, a sound of pain and fury and terror, but it was cut off sharply. Too sharply.

The guards drew back, grinning and clapping each other on the shoulders. They were celebrating, but all Kyra felt was a vague disgust at the narrow-mindedness of men and a slight sadness, though she could not explain why.

She couldn't bear the sight of the dragon's corpse so she turned away quickly, heading towards Irileth. The sooner they got away, the better. She didn't want to linger here any longer than necessary.

She felt it before a guard called out. It came in the form of whispered words, a light wind, a faint presence pressing on the edge of her mind. The sensation grew stronger and she turned around. The body of the dragon seemed to be disintegrating, burning up as though the Winds of Time themselves were ravaging the corpse, until just a skeleton was left. Ash spiraled into the air and ember brushed against her skin, sending a warm tingle through her.

Then __something__ seemed to rush into her, filling her up and emptying her dry. Images flashed through her mind, memories that didn't quite belong to her but felt as though they should. And with it came a name. __Mirmulnir.__ The name seemed to mean something. She saw glimpses of a hunt, of a strong allegiance between partners. But it didn't make any sense.

She rocked back on her heels, shocked to her core and struggling to take a breath as her mind gradually calmed. __What had just happened?__

"Dragonborn." Whispers came from behind her, from the guards. She turned around, shaking. Her lips moved but no words came out.

"You are Dovakiin." An unfamiliar voice spoke and the stranger stepped forwards, eyes wide. "You absorbed the dragon's soul."

Kyra knew. She had grown up hearing tales of the legendary Dragonborn, the hero with the soul of a dragon and the ability to use the Thu'um. But to think…

Her thoughts stuttered to a halt when a guard hesitantly asked for a demonstration. She opened her mouth to say she didn't know how but then she thought of the engraving on the wall. Looking inside herself to where the word lay in her soul, she reached out with her mind. The word seemed to be infused with some sort of power. She understood it now, not just the fleeting impression she had gained from the wall, but a concise understanding of its meaning.

Nodding to the soldier, she turned slightly to the side, and __shouted.__

 _"_ _ _FUS!"__

She felt a pressure building in her lungs, travelling up to her throat and exploding out of her mouth. The air vibrated and tingled with power. The force scattered rubble and made some of the guards on the outskirts of the group stagger slightly, before they recovered themselves and looked at her with renewed awe.

Dizziness came upon her suddenly and she stumbled, her head spinning with knowledge and unanswered questions. Someone gripped her elbow firmly to prevent her falling. She was grateful. She needed the solidity, the tie to reality to keep her grounded when she felt as though she was floating far above everything.

She looked to see who it was and felt no surprise when she saw it was the stranger, her stormy eyes gazing into hers. She smiled weakly.

Behind her, she could hear the guards arguing with Irileth about the Dragonborn and the stories that accompanied it, but Irileth was having none of it, not sharing the Nord's beliefs. She eventually managed to bully the guards into heading back to Whiterun to report to the Jarl and they walked off reluctantly, regaling tales of the Dragonborn and casting furtive looks at Kyra. She was still standing in a daze, the stranger at her side.

With a gentle push from the stranger, she began following the guards, almost tripping over a plant that had decided to grow in an inconvenient position.

She was breathing quickly. Too quickly. Her breath was coming in pants and her head was spinning. Her throat was dry.

And then, ever so gradually, the memories began to wake from their tranquil sleep, deep within the oceans of her mind. They gave a yawn and slowly raised their heads as if seeking light. She swallowed and forced them down, back to the perpetual twilight from whence they came. They didn't go, not completely - they were still lurking in the far reaches of her mind, swimming in the shallow water of the proverbial iceberg - but they weren't overwhelming her and that was enough.

She concentrated on walking, one foot in front of the other. She was vaguely aware of the stranger by her side and the delicate silence that was stretched too far. She knew that stranger would speak before she even opened her mouth.

"So. You're dragonborn," the stranger ventured when it became obvious she wasn't going to say anything.

There was a brief pause as Kyra searched for words. Her mind wasn't working properly and neither was her mouth. They felt clumsy, as though they were trying something new. "I-it would seem so. It's just…it's too coincidental for me to believe."

"How come?" The stranger seemed genuinely curious, not just the false interest Kyra seen plastered across the faces of so many before. As she had travelled, she had gotten rather good at reading faces.

She breathed out. "Well, the fact that the first dragon in millennium shows up and stops me from being executed, and now this one suddenly appearing not one mile from Whiterun where I've been staying. Not to mention the pure luck that resulted in me learning a word the same day as said dragon shows up. Maybe they're following me…" Kyra trailed off, her head starting to hurt. She was being too paranoid. But it __was__ unusual. Her life tended to be a little odd, but this had to top them all. Even that time with the necromancer and his beloved undead cat.

The stranger nodded. "Perhaps you're right. By the way, I didn't catch your name. I'm Alaedra," she said by means of introduction.

"Kyra. And I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I was just stressed. Still am, in fact."

"Don't worry about it. It's fi-"

She stopped suddenly and Kyra looked at her questioningly. And then she felt it. The air had become __heavy.__ It seemed like the pressure before a storm, only twice, no, three times as much. There was a static quality to her surroundings, as though lightning was arcing around her. She heard a distant rumbling. Maybe it was a storm after all. But that thought was driven out of her head when the sky seemingly split, a thunderous sound booming down from the heavens, cleaving the world in two in a way that no thunderclap could do. The sound resolved itself into words, full of raw and primal energy.

"DOVAKIIN."

The deafening rumble slowly faded but the ringing in her ears didn't. The nervousness in her stomach didn't either. It had been a call for her, for the Dovakiin. She was to meet with the Grey Beards.

The guards in front turned around to stare at her yet again, their mouths open. Despite everything, she felt awkward under their gaze, until the stranger -Alaedra- took her by the elbow again and propelled her forwards. She pushed through the guards who didn't stop them.

"There. You can breath now."

She shot a grateful look towards her and let out a breath. "So, it seems I'm tied to doing something else now. I have to visit the Greybeards. I mean, it's an honour, but so much for my plans."

"What were they?"

"Travel around Skyrim. See my home again." She shrugged, not wanting to tell a stranger everything.

"You might be able to do that after you speak to the Greybeards?"

"Maybe. They'll probably teach me how to use my Voice. But knowing my luck, they also expect me to deal with the dragon problem. Seems like everyone else wants me to." Her voice sounded mechanical.

Alaedra didn't say anything for a while and they walked on in silence. She was just starting to wonder whether she should say goodbye to Alaedra here and save them from the awkwardness when Alaedra spoke again just as they were entering Whiterun.

"What did you mean?"

"I'm sorry?" Kyra raised an eyebrow.

"When you said the dragon wasn't going to attack you. You sounded really convinced. Like you knew something I didn't."

Kyra scowled. She didn't understand it herself and she didn't want to talk to a stranger about it. She hated not knowing things. "It doesn't matter. The dragon's dead now, isn't it? Whatever happened doesn't affect you," she snapped quietly.

"Hey, it was only a question! If I had known you'd be so defensive, I wouldn't have bothered asking." Alaedra tossed her head and Kyra felt bad. But not enough to apologise.

"It doesn't matter," she repeated.

Alaedra looked as though she wanted to carry on asking but thought better of it and changed the conversation, seemingly talking to herself now. "You know, I never expected Skyrim to be like this. People said it was too dangerous to be beautiful. But I've only been here for a few months and it already feels like home," she said, looking over at Kyra and waiting for a response.

Despite herself, Kyra smiled and agreed. "It __is__ home for me. Well, this or Morrowind. They couldn't really be more different, apart from the danger. That's the only thing they share in common; there's always something trying to kill you. Wonder what that says about me."

Alaedra laughed, a pure laugh. "What's life without a little danger though? It certainly keeps you on your toes. The wildlife here is almost as bad as the bandits."

"The wildlife won't bother me. We have a…certain __arrangement,"__ Kyra said, enjoying the look of confusion on Alaedra's face and refused to say anything else about the matter.

By this time, they had reached the steps up to Dragons Reach. Alaedra paused. "I'm going to have you leave you here. I have things I need to be doing and work that needs to be done."

"What sort of work is this?"

"Now that would be telling!" Alaedra laughed again at the look on Kyra's face. Evidently she still wasn't used to people not giving her a straight answer but she covered it.

"I'm sure I'll see you soon though. What do you say to meeting up again?" Alaedra continued.

Kyra was about to make her excuses and apologise that she didn't really have time, but words tumbled out without her permission. "Yeah, of course. That'd be lovely." Her mouth twisted into a faint smile.

Alaedra smiled too, her eyes crinkling, and started walking back the way that they had came. Kyra stared at her retreating back as Alaedra's laughter trickled through her mind.

Chapter break

The Jarl was relieved to hear the dragon had been defeated. Irileth had informed him of all that had occurred, including Kyra absorbing the soul of the dragon. When she said that, Balgruuf turned his gaze on Kyra, a calculating look starting to enter his eyes.

"Dragonborn huh? I certainly never thought I'd meet one during my lifetime. Thank you for your service. You've helped Whiterun out and I am indebted to you. I offer you the rank of Thane, the highest honour I can give, and a housecarl to serve you. I also offer you a house of your own, Breezehome."

"Thank you. You are most kind." But Kyra knew it wasn't necessarily kindness that had lead Balgruuf to offer this to her. Having the Dragonborn as Thane of Whiterun and owning property in his city would give Balgruuf a lot more power and influence, something which he was in need of. The pressure from both Imperials and Stormcloaks to chose a side in this war was no doubt increasing daily so she couldn't really blame him for being so calculative. This was politics.

"I'm afraid I must decline on your offer of a housecarl," she continued. "I will be better off on my own, but my gratitude is immense."

The Jarl nodded. "Of course. I imagine you'll be heading to meet the Grey Beards shortly? Everyone heard the summons."

"I'm going to make the journey tomorrow. I must depart now, I'm afraid, as the light is fading. Thank you for your hospitality. My Jarl," she added after a thought. __Damn.__ She still wasn't used to being so respectful towards people of a higher station than her.

"If you ever need an ally, Dragonborn, then Whiterun awaits you."

Kyra inclined her head and backed away, facing the Jarl still. To turn her back on him would be deemed disrespectful, for it showed arrogance. Once she was within a safe distance, she turned on her heel and walked from the hall, holding her head high.

* * *

 **I must admit, it took me a long time to get the conversation between Kyra and Alaedra right...but I think I've achieved it. Thoughts, criticism, ideas all welcome!**


	6. Unexpected knowledge

**Sorry for the wait! Revision and work has been manic, I've got some pretty big exams coming up. But this story keeps on bugging me, and well...here's another chapter for you all :)**

* * *

She managed to maintain her stiff posture until she was facing the door to Adrianne's. It was locked so she tapped on it weakly, feeling her muscles ache. Adrianne answered it.

"Kyra! It's late and…you look exhausted. Come in."

Heading upstairs, Kyra was gently pushed into a warm chair. She relaxed, closing her eyes briefly.

"Wow. What a day," she muttered.

"Care to share?" Adrianne sat opposite her, not moving her gaze.

And so Kyra did. She told her about the execution attempt and the dragon that had inadvertently saved her life. She told her the events that had occurred within Bleak Falls Barrow, the mysterious word and the Dragonstone. She told her about the dragon attack and the stranger, Alaedra, and then the revelation that she was dragonborn. And finally, the thunderous call from High Hrothgar to meet the Greybeards. She left some parts out purposefully - she didn't know enough herself to even consider telling someone else.

By the time she had finished, night was creeping in and Adrianne still hadn't said anything throughout her tale. She felt relieved to get it all off her shoulders. Normally she wouldn't have spilled her problems like this, but she was too tired to care for once. And none of this was exactly normal.

Adrianne spoke. "Well. I see what you mean, but really, I don't know what to say. You're the Dragonborn. Like it or not, you have to visit the Grey Beards."

"I know, I know. And I will. But right now, I'm honestly too tired to think about it. Can we please talk about something inconsequential? I don't mind what." She sighed, leaning back into the chair.

"Of course, I'd probably be feeling the same if I was you. And you can stay here for the night too, save you from having to buy a room at the inn. I've got enough space."

"It's alright. The Jarl offered me a house here. It's only next door, I can sleep there."

"If you're sure...now, did you know that that there have been rumours Surdar has been courting Marys? It's quite the scandal."

The conversation meandered as conversations tend to do, a soft flowing river - gradual in its bends but the current strong enough to invoke care. Kyra stayed tense and ended up saying goodbye to Adrianne only an hour later. She was too tired to watch her words.

Breezehome was small and rustic but she wasn't in the mood to be fussy. She was beyond caring. She threw herself into bed, and sighed in contentment as her muscles finally relaxed. A warm feeling came from deep within her as her eyes closed.

* * *

 _ _She was standing on a vast expanse of land. Fluffy clouds floated lazily in an azure sky, mountains rising up to graze them. A warm wind blew, a few strands of her tawny hair dancing in the breeze as she picked a small red flower from the ground.__

 _ _She turned her gaze to the sky again, just in time to see the clouds darken as though bruised and damaged. They scattered apart like scared animals, revealing a discoloured line in the sky, swollen and damaged as if it had been carved with a knife. Cracks splintered around the edge, creaking slowly across the sky as though it would shatter at any moment.__

 _ _The wind blew again, hot and burning on her face and carrying malicious intent. A crash from behind her shook the earth and she fell to the ground, the red flower tumbling from her grasp. It turned to ash as it fell.__

 _ _The dragon crouched there, the one she had seen earlier. Mirmulnir. He growled and his features shimmered and changed, becoming the black dragon from her execution. His eyes were like burning coals and he lunged at her as the sky split open and shadow poured forth.__

* * *

She awoke with a gasp, staying as still as she could even as her heart was pounded painfully. Common sense gradually returned to her and she dared to move, shifting position so she could see everything in the room.

 _ _It was just a nightmare. You've had them before and you'll have them again. Go back to sleep.__ As soon as the thought crossed her mind, tiredness overcame her body and she fell asleep again.

She didn't remember her dream in the morning. All that remained was a vague sense of worry as she said stopped to say goodbye to Adrianne and started off with a new set of leather armour and some healing potions. The scavenged coin from Bleak Falls Barrow was more than enough.

It took her two days to reach High Hrothgar. The journey had been long but now she stood in front of the imposing stone walls, arm stinging from the claw marks of a frost troll. Frigid wind battled to sweep her off the side of the mountain but she didn't move. She stayed still, looking at the castle.

Snowflakes had crystalised on her long eyelashes and her tousled hair was burdened with snow. She clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering and considered whether she'd be able to just turn around and walk away. From all of this. There was nothing stopping her, and she knew that as soon as she stepped through those doors, fate would sweep her down a different path to the one she wanted. But despite knowing that, her sense of pride wouldn't allow her to just walk away. It sung in her. And she wanted answers about the dragon - curiosity urged her forwards.

So she started moving, climbing up the stairs to halt in front of the door. She briefly wondered whether to knock but decided against it and walked in.

The inside was as forbidding and humourless as she had expected but the scattered braziers cast warm light, softening the harsh lines. The temperature wasn't much warmer than it had been outside but it was enough to stop her shivering.

No one was there - that she could see - so she approached a lit brazier and hovered her hands over it. The heat slowly seeped into her skin and she gratefully accepted it as she stared at the flaming coals. The flickering motion of the flames calmed her, but she must have still been tense because when she heard a faint rustle of cloth from behind her, she spun round so fast her neck clicked. She staggered from the sudden change in motion and gripped the edge of the brazier - before realising it was burning hot and hurriedly withdrawing her fingers, gently blowing on them.

The cloaked figure raised an eyebrow as the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Apologies Dovahkiin. I did not mean to startle you."

Three other, similarly cloaked, figures seem to melt out of the lingering darkness and walked towards her. She shifted her position so she could see all of them in her line of sight.

"No, it was my fault for not paying attention," she said politely, even as her hand twitched for her sword. The Greybeard must have seen because he fixed her with a faint disapproving look but didn't say anything.

The silence stretched. Kyra glanced round at the other figures, wondering if they were going to say something, but they were all just looking at her.

"You…summoned me? And I came. Hence why I'm standing right here." A little rude perhaps, but she __did__ trek up a mountain for this, and if they weren't going to say anything…well, she though her discourtesy wasn't entirely uncalled for.

The figure nodded. "So, you claim to be Dovahkiin. If you wouldn't mind, a demonstration might be in order just to confirm this?"

Fair enough. Kyra turned so she was facing a wall, and reached inside her for that symbol, that word. She latched onto it, and dragged it up as the force built in her, coiling and spiraling in her lungs until it was ready to burst out and-

" _ _FUS!"__ Dust fell from the wall in a fine mist as the sound echoed around the stone room.

"Dovakiin. It __is__ you. Welcome, and forgive the cold introduction. It was…a test, of sorts."

She frowned. "What was it meant to test? My personality? Whether I'm Dovahkiin?"

"Some people who come here are no more than ordinary people seeking to get a glimpse of High Hrothgar. Others are seekers of knowledge, looking to uncover ancient secrets. But none of them have been allowed to stay. That is the Dovahkiin's privilege and no one else's. Does that answer your question?"

"Kind of. Not really. Actually, no, not at all."

The Greybeard looked patient. "It will. But before we speak at length, I think introductions are in order. I am Master Arngeir and I speak for all the Greybeards." He gestured at the others who were still standing silently in a semicircle.

Kyra frowned, wondering whether it was polite to ask whether he meant that literally or figuratively, but curiosity won out. She opened her mouth, but Arngeir must have predicted what she was going to say - no doubt it was written clearly across her face.

"Masters Wulfgar, Einarth and Borri have powerful voices. Too powerful. For one untrained in the way of the voice, such as yourself, it would simply tear you apart. Therefore they stay silent."

Her hand instinctively came up to brush against her throat. That wouldn't happen to her…would it? She couldn't imagine never being able to talk again. She swallowed. "Will that happen to me?"

"You are Dovahkiin. The rules differ for you. But we have a human soul, and using the gift of the dragons means that some sacrifices must be made. And this is one of them."

"You can still talk," she pointed out, just in case he hadn't noticed.

"I have been here several years longer than the others. I have had enough time to train myself to speak without the thu'um being present in my voice. Master Borri has almost succeeded in that."

One of the figures - Borri - nodded, looking proud of himself in an almost boyish innocence. Kyra fought the urge to giggle.

"So Dovahkiin-"

"Kyra," she interjected.

"Very well, Kyra - may I ask you what your last name is?"

"Why?" Suspicion was layered in her tone. She hadn't intended it to be there but old habits die hard.

Arngeir shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It's just an unusual name, for a Nord anyway, and it seems very familiar." He paused, looking her straight in the eyes for the first time and taking note of the unusual colouration. "It wouldn't happen to be…Nightingale, by any chance?"

She felt a brief burst of panic, potential false names and lies flying past, but she covered them up. No more lying.

"Yes, actually. So, I assume you know who I am?"

"We do." The figures around the room nodded as Arngeir continued. "I'd never have suspected that Nightingale was also Dovahkiin. But the fates are rarely lazy enough for coincidences. What this means for the future has yet to be revealed."

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you know? The Dunmer are careful to keep their secrets, and I'm only really known by them. I mean, it's not like you get a newspaper delivered to your doorstep every morning." Her sarcasm made a rise and she blushed, remembering who she was talking to, but while Arngeir furrowed his brow, Wulfgar made a funny sort of snuffling sound. Arngeir turned back to her.

"We have our ways," he said in a deep tone that was probably supposed to convey a sense of mystery. "But anyway. We have gone astray. Kyra, why did you come here?"

She blinked at him. "You __did__ summon me? I had assumed it was bad manners to refuse, especially when you decided the best way to get my attention was to deafen all of Skyrim. I mean, couldn't you have just sent a letter?"

Arngeir looked faintly disapproving but Wulfgar made another snuffling sound, slightly louder this time.

He carried on talking, evidently not deeming it worthy of a reply. "What I meant to say was, what is your purpose for coming here? What do you hope to achieve?"

Kyra let seriousness seep into her tone. "Answers. About the dragons, about the voice, and how to use it."

"And those are all the right reasons for coming here. Of course, you'll learn about other things too during your stay here. But first, we need to see whether you have the discipline and temperament needed for this path, and the best way to for that to occur is for us to see how you learn a new shout first hand. We will do that later on today."

"Um, okay. So, how do I do I actually learn a shout?"

"Well, how much do you know about what it means to be Dovahkiin?" Arngeir asked.

"The basics. I've heard all the tales, but none of them ever went particularly in depth about how it worked."

"I'll explain it as succinctly as I can then. Essentially, there are two types of people who can use the Thu'um. There are those, like us, the Greybeards, who are born with a certain type of mind. We can be trained to use the Thu'um, but it requires intense meditation and energy in order for us to learn the word. Then there are Dovahkiin, such as yourself. You learn a word and absorb the power required from a word wall. But in order to use it, you need an understanding of it, which is found when you absorb a dragon's soul."

Kyra inwardly sighed. She had gathered most of that already just from the last few days. "Thank you, that was very…informative." She paused briefly. "I have some other questions though. Do you think-"

"Of course, but now is not the time. We have much we will discuss during your stay, but first, I think it would be a good idea to show you around. I'm sure you want to see where you will be staying?"

She bristled a little at being interrupted. She wanted answers about why the dragons were coming back, and what that feeling in her stomach was when she faced a dragon. But they would have to wait, and she could be patient if she tried.

She nodded and walked after Arngeir, taking note of how many twists and turns it took until they paused in what she assumed was to be her room during her stay. Perhaps it was unnecessary, but there was no reason __not__ to do it.

Her room was simplistic, but it had a certain style of cold comfort that Kyra found herself appreciating. There was a narrow window that looked out onto a courtyard, and she could see the snow swirling calmly outside. It didn't allow much light into her room, but the dimness was illuminated by several candles, giving it a more comforting feel. Bronze candle holders encircled them, so there was no chance of her accidentally knocking them off in the night. She was grateful. She didn't particularly fancy worrying about that every time she went to sleep.

They didn't pause there long - just enough for her to glance around - before she was shown the rest of High Hrothgar. Arngeir explained the history of each part and she listened with rapt attention, even as she commented sarcastically at intervals. Wulfgar's snuffling sounds, she discovered, were his way of laughing mutely.

At least he appreciated her humour, she thought as they headed back to the main hall. Arngeir turned to face her.

"No doubt you are tired from your journey," he said apologetically. "But I think it would be a wise idea to judge your level of skill now, so we can plan our lessons accordingly."

"Makes sense." Kyra shrugged casually, but inside she was vibrating with excitement.

"Master Borri will now teach you the second part of unrelenting force, RO, so we can see how quickly you learn a new word and use it."

RO. The word echoed in her head. She realised she __knew__ it, like there was a hidden part of her mind that had discovered the meaning of it. She tried to reach for it, but was startled out of her thoughts by Master Borri stepping forwards.

He bent over and Kyra was just about to ask whether he was okay, when he seemed to create an orb of power that rippled and shimmered in his hands. With a sharp gesture, he flung it to the ground, and the stone absorbing it smoothly. But after a brief pause, engravings began to carve themselves into the floor, the edges burning with unnatural fire.

She paused, wondering what was expected of her, and Arngeir waved her forwards, towards the burning marks.

As she stepped closer, her thoughts suddenly tilted. It seemed for a second as though her mind had changed itself completely, turned in on itself…and suddenly she knew what RO meant. Balance. It was so obvious - it was the true word for balance and nothing else would fit. Her mind rippled and changed back, but the knowledge remained.

She was still reeling when the still burning engravings glowed brighter, etching themselves in her mind. It was a similar process to what had occurred in Bleak Falls Barrow, and the brief euphoric feeling came over her again, the world coming into a crystalline focus. She laughed. But all too soon, the sensation started to fade from her body.

Arngeir was talking, she dimly recognised, and she shook off the last golden remnants of the feeling, plunging back into blurry coldness.

"-and that can be added to the first word, FUS, to focus your power…"

She tuned him out, more preoccupied with the knowledge of the word that was simmering inside her, glowing with power. She realised she knew it, not just the brief understanding that had come from looking at the word wall in the ruins, but the complete, concise understanding that, previously, had come in the form of absorbing the dragon's soul. Master Borri must have transferred his knowledge to her at the same time.

She paused, thinking. It had felt that she learnt the word __before__ she looked at the engravings...but she couldn't be sure. Either way, it didn't really matter.

"I suppose you'd like me to give you a demonstration of it?" she asked Arngeir. She expected him to nod, but instead he smiled at her in an almost grandfatherly way.

"I thought I'd just explained the process." He was still smiling. "You need an understanding of the word before you can use it, and master Borri has yet to transferred his knowledge of it."

She frowned, looking round in bemusement. "But…I thought he already had? I __do__ understand it. It means balance, right? And combining force and balance together will give the effect of a pushing force."

Arngeir looked taken aback. He opened his mouth but didn't say anything, and the others looked equally shocked. Even Einarth, who was normally stoic and solemn.

"You…" He coughed. "You know what it means?"

"I'm going by your, quite frankly, __hilarious__ expressions, that none of you expected this to happen?"

Arngeir shook his head, and was mirrored by Borri. "Kyra, if you please, could you demonstrate the shout? Both words." He looked tense, as though there was a lot riding on her success.

Instead of replying, she simply turned to the wall and reached deep inside again, to the part of her where the words floated. She combined them together. It took her a little while to grasp the changed nature of the shout once the extra word had been added, but after some thought, they melded together effortlessly and she understood the complete meaning. Marvelling at the way they seemed to compliment each other, she sucked in a breath and then __shouted.__

 _"_ _ _FUS-RO!"__

The force was stronger this time, but she had expected it. The backlash of the power caught Arngeir and he staggered, before recovering himself. His eyes were wide. He didn't say anything and Kyra grew nervous.

She knew that, evidently, she wasn't supposed to be able to do this. But merging the words together has just seemed so natural, even if it had been a slight struggle to grasp the finished phrase and understand it. But she had done it.

Arngeir finally cleared his throat. "Just one last test, if you will allow it?"

"Yes, sure."

"First, please tell me what the Dovah word for extinguish is." Arngeir tucked his hands beneath the folds of his robe and shifted his weight.

Kyra made a face, musing about the word. Extinguish…she tried to grasp the Dovah meaning but it slipped out of her grasp. And then her mind suddenly rippled and tilted again. It reverted to normal again quickly, but the Dovah meaning came with it and was now safely in her head.

" _ _Evenaar.__ The Dovah word for extinguish is __evanaar__ , right?" She said it hesitantly but she knew she was right.

Arngeir paused. "Yes…yes. It is. And the final thing. Please can you use it to put out a brazier? Only that word is necessary."

She suddenly felt nervous again. The Greybeards all looked very solemn now, standing like pillars of stone wreathed in shadows. She shook off the feeling, instead focusing on the flames of the brazier.

" _ _EVENAAR!"__

The fire flickered. Smaller flames died immediately, but although the rest wavered, they didn't go out completely. She felt slightly disappointed but when she looked at the Greybeards, all she saw was shock and wonder.

"Thank you for doing that. But it's late now and you'll probably want to rest. We'll talk about this in the morning." It was a blatant dismissal and she grew indignant.

"What? Wait, no. Tell me what that was about first. I deserve to know."

"And you will find out. But not now, I'm afraid. I need to discuss this with the others first."

Kyra sighed. She wouldn't normally back down, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get anything out of them tonight. "Fine. As long as you tell me __everything."__

"Of course Dovahkiin." He bowed at the waist, an unexpected gesture of respect. "Sleep well."

Kyra nodded and withdrew from the room, and the Greybeards turned to each other.

* * *

 **I'm** **going to try and get the next chapter out within the next two weeks or so, but if enough of you review, it may be a little quicker :) Thoughts and ideas all welcomed!**


	7. Discoveries of power

**The explanation in this chapter may be a little confusing - god knows I got confused writing it - but hopefully I've made it clear enough to understand. If not, drop a review and I'll try and explain it further. If not, it should become more apparent how it works in the consequent chapters!**

 **Special shout out to TimeLordPrime for being willing to talk with me about this chapter and iron out any problems. You're amazing :)**

* * *

"Are you going to explain now?" Kyra asked, leaning against the wall, her arms folded. Arngeir was facing her but the other Greybeards were suspiciously absent. She didn't ask where they were and Arngeir didn't offer an explanation.

"Of course. I apologise for the wait, but it __was__ something we needed to talk about at length." He gestured to a narrow door to the side of them. "Perhaps it would be best if we had this conversation in there? The explanation is a long one."

"What's wrong with staying here?"

"Through that door is the room is where you will be taught everything. The Dovahkiin before you learnt in there and the Dovahkiin before him and so on. We will start using it now, if you have no objections?"

Kyra nodded and followed him through the door, not surprised that some rooms had been left out of the tour. High Hrothgar was too big for a single hour's tour to cover every inch.

The new room was spacious, the ceiling high and carved and all the walls - aside from the one with the door - were covered with bookshelves. Ancient tomes lay cover to cover, their pages yellow with age and containing lost knowledge. It looked like a library and the large stone table standing in the middle was a nice additional touch.

Chairs were scattered around - thankfully made of wood and not stone - and Arngeir seated himself. After a brief pause, Kyra sat opposite him.

"Please could you explain __now__?" she asked.

"Very well. I will start at the beginning-"

"That's generally a good idea," Kyra muttered before she could stop herself. She looked apologetically at Arngeir.

"As I was saying. The dragon language, or __Dovah-Zul__ , is far more complex than people think. Even I have not yet grasped the finer points, and I doubt I ever will. But I know the basics, and these apply to you. The __Dovah-Zul__ is like any other language. Every noun, every adjective, every verb, has a word in the __Dovah-Zul.__ However, this language is ancient, and seems to have a life of its own, a __power__ , if you will. This is a shout. In theory, a shout can be __created,__ for lack of a better word."

Arngeir paused, glancing at her to make sure she was listening. She nodded and he started speaking again, his voice slipping into a deeper tone as he recalled the knowledge.

"But it was thought rather undependable, for it took many, many years to grasp the whole shout if you were not Dovahkiin. Even two words took over a year to understand fully. Even Dovahkiin need to find the corresponding word walls in order to learn a whole shout. It's-"

"So why can I do it then?" she interrupted. "That's what I did last night when I used both __FUS__ and __RO__ and combined them together. That certainly didn't take a year. That's why you were so shocked, wasn't it? Because no one's been able to do that before. So, why me?"

"For a simple reason that no one thought to address before. You are Dovahkiin… _ _and__ you have that certain mind. The mind that allows you to learn words through understanding alone."

She looked at him. She spiraled her finger around a groove on the table, feeling the slight roughness of the stone beneath her skin but didn't say anything. She felt as though she should, because now the silence was growing awkward but couldn't think of anything to say.

"Okay," she said at last. She cringed and continued. "What does that mean?"

"You have both a Dovah soul and the mind to accompany it. These minds are rare, Dovahkiin even more so. Because they were so uncommon, it was never thought they would occur in the same person. But there is no good reason they can't, and you, Kyra, are proof of that. I will explain what that means for you in a minute, but first, you must understand this simple concept. I suspect you already naturally know it, but I'll give you an example." Arngeir pursed his lips, thinking. "The Dovah word for burn is __ag__ and tree is __reyth__. Combining these together will give __ag reyth__ , and if you imbue that with the thu'um, the tree will burn. Do you understand?"

"Of course, that's common sense. Surely that's obvious?"

"Common sense is, sadly, lacking at the moment. But moving on. The shouts that most people are familiar with is a combination of three words. There is a reason for this - three is the ideal number to give you enough power and focus, while still making it concise. Let us take __FUS-RO-DAH__ for example. It means force-balance-push, and will generate a pushing effect. However, surely __DAH-SU-MUL__ will give the same effect? After all, it does mean push-air-strong. And yes, it __will__ also generate a pushing effect. However, it isn't the ideal combination. No matter how much power you add to it, it will never be as strong as __FUS-RO-DAH.__ No one quite knows why, but it is my guess that __FUS-RO-DAH__ is a more __pure__ force, so to speak. And this is essentially what word walls do. They provide one word from a __pure__ combination."

"And that's why I absorbed FUS from the word wall in Bleak Falls Barrow. It was part of the pure combination for a pushing force," Kyra said, links forming in her mind. "But I can still use just that word without it being part of the whole phrase."

"Yes, and you will be able to use other individual words as well to generate unique effects. You will need to understand each word before you use it, of course, but your mind and soul combined means you have a natural grasp over that. Take __evanaar__ , for example. You used it last night to put out the fire."

"But I didn't. It didn't work, remember? The flames only flickered slightly." She made a face.

"Ah, that's because you weren't concentrating on it as hard as you should have been," Arngeir said, nodding his head.

"I was thinking about the flames and putting them out. I was concentrating pretty damn hard on it." She rolled her neck, hearing it crunch. She sighed in satisfaction and hid a grin when Arngeir looked faintly repulsed.

"No doubt your mind slipped slightly. It is difficult to focus on one thing purely - thoughts and feelings are always flying through your mind. To focus your mind to such an edge will come with time. But there is another alternative. Two words."

Kyra leant forwards and cocked her head, interested.

"You can combine two words, either to change the nature of the shout or make it more specific. I mentioned that before briefly, using the example of burn and tree, but we'll stay with __evenaar__ for simplicity. You can add __yol__ , meaning fire, to __evenaar.__ This will focus your shout more, so you will not need the intense concentration required for one word. It also adds more power to it." He paused.

"I sense a 'but' coming," Kyra said dryly.

"Indeed. The nature of the shout is more complicated so you will need to think about it in order to use it. I'm sure you remember combining __FUS__ and __RO__ together?"

"The meaning changed," she said slowly. "It wasn't enough to know each individual word. The phrase had to be understood as a whole."

"Precisely. And the time taken to grasp the meaning will vary depending on the complexity of it. FUS and RO are actually among the simplest, which is why you understood it in just a few seconds."

"What about three words? I'm assuming it's similar to two."

"Essentially, yes. However, it naturally needs more time to understand it, as well as requiring energy. That comes from your life force."

"Life force?" she asked, alarmed. "I'm not having anything draining my life force. What happens if too much is taken away?"

"Then you will die," Arngeir said calmly.

"And that doesn't concern you?" Kyra growled.

"The powerful and complex words will take more of your life force than others. But your body will instinctively know which words will drain too much. Your power will gradually build up with practice and you'll be able to learn more powerful words as you do. Besides, your combination of mind and soul means that much less energy will be required. And less time too," he added as an afterthought.

"How much time are we talking?"

"It entirely depends on the word. Complex ones may take you a whole week's meditation and thought in order to grasp the meaning." He saw her start to protest and raised his hand. "That is barely __anything__ when you realise it takes us a whole year to learn just two words - sometimes more. And we are - quite literally - unable to create three words for a shout without spending many, many years meditating on it."

"No wonder you stay up here then," she said. "It's a good place to think."

Arngeir chuckled. "Quite. But there is one final thing I must address. Shouts aren't actually limited to three words. As I previously mentioned, it is best for power and succinctness. The additional forth word will take that split second longer to articulate, and when you have an enemy charging towards you, it may mean life or death. Nevertheless, it __will__ be useful. For example, you can increase the power of the shout by adding __MUL,__ or increase the time by adding __TIIR__ to the end of the phrase _ _.__ "

Kyra nodded. " _ _TIIR__ …that means time, right?" she asked, and Arngeir nodded. "That makes sense. How does everything else fit into this?"

"Everything else?"

"Word walls. Dragon souls. You know."

"You don't need either of them. However, they remain useful. The word walls gives you one word from the ideal phrase - as I already said - as well as providing the power, so it doesn't need to come from your life force. The dragon soul also gives you an understanding of the individual word, but that is rendered almost useless now - for you, in any case. But, as the legends tell, you can absorb their memories." He fixed Kyra with an acute look. "Is that true?"

"I…haven't had the chance to look at them yet, But yes, I think so. I certainly absorbed knowledge of his name. __Mirmulnir…"__ She spoke almost to herself, feeling the name roll pleasantly in her mouth before she released it.

"Have a look at the memories now."

"This second?"

Arngeir spread his arms. "You may as well. I am simply curious to discovered how much is truth and how much is legend."

Kyra nodded and concentrated. She brought the dragon's name up to the forefront of her mind and wondered how she was supposed to access his memories. __There should be a booklet for all Dovahkiin to read,__ she idly thought. __It'd make things so much simpler.__

Her attention was drifting. She focused back on his name, trying to search deeper and deeper and…

And then her body seemed to shake, as though gripped by a sudden icy wind. She sucked in a sharp breath and colours exploded in her mind. Memories that didn't quite belong to her started swirling across her sight. She focused on one at random and felt as though she was pulled forwards uncontrollably, sucked in towards the memory.

And then she was __in__ the memory. She saw through Mirmulnir's eyes as he soared high above the ground, his sharp eyesight catching a flicker of movement far below. Prey. Teeth bared and wings folded tight to a scaled body, the dragon tipped, plummeting down towards the ground in an exhilarating descent as she used the wind currents to control her fall. Inches from the quarry, her wings snapped open and her claws bit deep into the prey. Her neck snacked down and she sunk her fangs into warm, pulsating flesh, feeling blood explode in her mouth and the delicious scent fill her nostrils and-

Her eyes snapped open. She was feasting…no. She was sitting. In a chair. A wooden chair. A human was sitting opposite her. __Arngeir,__ her mind helpfully supplied. He looked wary.

"Kyra?" His voice was filled with caution.

She swallowed and didn't answer. She was still trying to convince herself she was human, no matter how natural the flying had felt.

"Are you okay?" Arngeir spoke again, concern replacing caution now.

"Yes, yes," She coughed. "I just…got caught up in the memories, that's all."

"Are you sure? You looked a little…" He trailed off and Kyra frowned.

"I looked a little what?"

"Nothing. Don't worry," Arngeir said, but it was obvious he wasn't convinced. "Anyway, before we start your lessons properly, I assume you have other questions you want answered?"

A change in topic. Good.

"Yes. I was wondering whether being Dovahkiin will give me physical benefits? I've noticed a few things lately that are a little odd. My sight and hearing is better. I feel stronger. And…" She paused, wondering whether Arngeir would think she was delusional, but decided to say it anyway. "I think I can smell emotions? I knew when someone was lying. I can smell __fear__. Is that…I mean, is that normal?" she asked hesitantly in an uncharacteristic display of shyness.

Arngeir looked a little surprised, but then gave a wry smile. "I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised when it comes to you. The first things you mentioned are normal. Heightened senses, speed, strength - that all comes with having a Dov soul. But smelling emotions is not quite so usual, and only happens when the soul is particularly strong. On a related note, are you having a sudden urge to kill people? Set fire to things? An uncontrollable rage?"

"No…should I?" Kyra quirked an eyebrow.

"No, no. It's just that when Dovahkiin have a strong Dov soul, their soul can overpower their mind, especially if they have a weak personality."

"And what happens?"

"The consequences are…not good, to say the least." He looked grave. "Their dragon nature rules everything, and they have all the strength and rage of a dragon, but none of the intelligence. They are rare, certainly, but there have been a few recorded instances."

"But I have a strong mind, right? That means the soul won't overpower me. At least, that's what I hope you're trying to say," Kyra said.

"Indeed. You have the perfect balance between Dov and human," he said.

Kyra was quiet for a while, thinking over what she was going to say. "I have another question," she started.

"Ask away, please."

"When the black dragon attacked at Helgen, I felt… _ _something.__ It was like a jolting, deep in my stomach. Almost as if someone had lightly punched me. And I knew when he was about to do something. I knew when he would make the wall would collapse, and the roof." Once she started talking, she couldn't stop. "With the other dragon, Mirmulnir, I didn't know when he was about to do something, but there was another feeling in my stomach. I know it was connected to him." She paused for a breath, her eyes fixed on the table. "It felt almost sad, but that's not the right word. Proud, angry, indignant. Something like that. And he didn't attack me. He had all the opportunity to do so, but he didn't. And then, afterwards…he was an animal again. I…" She trailed off and swallowed.

She traced her fingers along the table again as she waited for Arngeir to say something. When he didn't, she eventually raised her head to look at him. His eyebrows were drawn into a stern line and he was looking at her intensely, as though she was a mystery he wanted to figure out.

"Is everything alright?" she asked him.

"I'm not entirely sure," he answered slowly. "Most of that can probably be passed off as side effects of you having such a strong Dov soul. But no other Dovahkiin have reported that before." He stopped, looking as though he was considering something. "I'll talk to our leader, Paarthurnax, later today about it. But for now, we will start your lessons in earnest, unless there is anything else you want answering?"

"Just one thing that's, ah, a little odd. Could you say your leader's name again?"

Arngeir looked bemused but complied and her reaction was the same the second time upon hearing it. Something about the name just seemed so dark, so cruel. She shivered and Arngeir looked at her shrewdly.

"Are you alright?"

"I don't know - I just get a really bad feeling from the name." She laughed but Arngeir didn't.

"I suppose that's to be expected."

"What is?"

"Break his name down into three parts. You'll realise then."

"Three parts?" Her brain whirled. PAAR-THUR-NAX. Like AL-DU-IN. And MIR-MUL-NIR. "He's a dragon," she realised. "Your leader is a Dov?"

"He is. All Dov have names that are made of three parts of the Dovah-Zul."

She went quiet, thinking. PAAR. THUR. NAX. She reached for the definitions and her brain flipped in a now familiar motion as the meanings became clear. She recoiled.

"What the hell kind of leader do you have?" she asked, her voice higher pitched than normal.

"I assure you, he is completely reformed. His days are far behind him."

She laughed. "Oh, of course. A name that literally means ambitious overlord of cruelty doesn't set alarm bells ringing? Not at all?"

Arngeir folded his arms and looked patient. "I give you my word that his priorities have changed. Unfortunately, his name cannot, and will not."

She opened her mouth but Arngeir changed the topic. "Now, I think the learning will start. I will teach you the Dovah language and the finer points-"

"I thought you said I already knew it?" Kyra interrupted.

"You know the individual words, but forming grammatically correct sentences is an entirely different matter. I will also teach you the history you must know. Wulfgar will educate you on the voice - he is planning to teach you the final word of unrelenting force, as well as whirlwind sprint sometime tomorrow. Borri will also help in that, and I will occasionally oversee. Einarth will not play such an active part in your education, however he will help."

Kyra nodded. "Are we starting right now?"

"Yes, I don't see why not. The books in here are only a selection of what High Hrothgar has to offer, but they are the most applicable to you. I think we'll start with looking at the Dovah language, if you have no objections?"

Kyra smiled.

* * *

Time passed. She settled into comfortable rhythm of learning, practicing and sleeping, and gradually grew to find the initially forbidding corridors reassuring and familiar. But although the Greybeards found it easy to distance themselves from the world below, she missed the warmth of the sun and the sereneness of the forests. When she inevitably grew impatient with Arngeir during one of their lessons and asked if she could drop the unnecessary parts to speed things up, a polite argument had sprung up.

Arngeir had fixed her with what he thought was a stern and reprimanding stare, but she had seen too many of them to be affected. "I'm sure you understand the importance of developing your understanding of Thu'um and the language of the Dovah. It may be essential in the future."

"I've already said I do. And I actually enjoy learning about it. But the history? Apart from learning about the rise of the Dovah, I really don't see how the political acts of 1E 43 or a reduction in the silver content of coins in Hammerfell last era is going to be useful." She irritably drummed her fingers on the table.

"Kyra, you have a brilliant mind. Your memory is something people can only dream about. And for centuries, the Grey Beards have educated Dovakiin in the history of the world. We only do it to help you."

"I know. But it __isn't__ going to help me, that's what I'm trying to say. I only need to know what's necessary. And maybe, once the threat has gone, I can return to learn the rest. But knowing anything else really isn't going to be useful."

The conversation had continued like this for at least an hour before Arngeir had eventually bowed to her wishes, but on the condition that she remain for a minimum of three months to learn the needed depth and knowledge, or until Paarthurnax eventually contacted them about the feeling when she faced the dragons.

So the history lessons were dropped, and the speech of the dragons and use of the Thu'um was focused on. The Dovah language was easy to grasp, especially with her knowledge of the words, and she seized it with enthusiasm. The simplicity and complexity of the words blended together in a perfect mesh and it seemed much more eloquent than the language of men. The Greybeards had forbidden her from creating full shouts, wary that her power hadn't developed enough yet, but they conceded her point that learning shouts consisting of two words would be beneficial.

Her lessons in use of the voice were also progressing well, but although her strength was formidable, endurance was something that Arngeir struggled to teach her. After the first few shouts, her throat closed up and burned, rendering it almost useless. Control was another issue that couldn't be easily taught and whenever she lost her temper, the air shimmered with almost use of the Thu'um.

Over the months, her control and endurance __did__ increase, but Arngeir still seemed a little dissatisfied with her progress. She could see it in the slight downturn of his mouth and crease in his forehead whenever she grimaced and clutched her throat after using too many shouts.

But his pride was equally clear to see when she combined her knowledge of the Dovah language and the Thu'um. She had created several two word shouts in an afternoon alone, and has altered unrelenting force - which she now knew all three words of - by adding MUL, for strength, on the end. The force had thrown the target off the side of the mountain - quite literally.

None of the Greybeards were able to instruct her on her sword fighting, so on her afternoons off, she practiced in the courtyard, experimenting with the thu'um as she did. She had initially tried to set her swords on fire with a shout to inflict more damage, but the frost enchantment canceled it out.

She was, however, able to use the thu'um to increase her speed, as well as strengthening the swords so they wouldn't break under pressure. As time went on, her swordsmanship increased even more until they felt like an extension of her arms as she flowed effortlessly through the movements, easily combining the thu'um and the swords to defeat imaginary opponents. She was proud of her progress, and enjoying the learning.

And then one morning, precisely three months and two days into her stay, Arngeir received a message from Paarthurnax.

* * *

 **Apologies for the slight cliff hanger, but it seemed the best place to leave it. And yes, Paarthurnax's name really does mean ambitious overlord of cruelty! I was shocked when I found out. PAAR= Ambition, THUR= Overlord, and NAX= Cruelty. I had great fun with the Dovah-Zul translator in case you couldn't tell xD**


	8. Recognition

**Wooo! My exams are almost over, so I thought I'd take a break from revision and update this.** **It's a little shorter than normal, but the length of the next chapter should hopefully make up for it. Hope you all enjoy as usual!**

* * *

"Is that it?" Kyra asked, annoyed. "It took him three months to contact you, and all he said was that he didn't know?"

The Greybeards all sat opposite her. Arngeir looked stern, but Wulfgar kept flashing her quick grins. She had formed a close friendship with him - more so than any of the others - and although communication proved to be a problem at the start, they managed to use mimes and lip reading to get by.

"He didn't __explicitly__ say that. He only thought that the feeling you encounter with the Dov is worth investigating. He doesn't dismiss anything lightly - especially if there has been no recorded instances of this happening before," Arngeir said.

Kyra sighed, tipping back in her seat in a rather childish motion. "So what happens now?"

"He will continue scouring his memory for anything that could be related. As for you, we would usually send the Dovahkiin on a journey to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, but in this case, there is no need for you to do that. You have proven your skill with the voice, and your ability to stay true to the path of the thu'um. I think it would be more useful for you to find your own way now, and use the thu'um as you have been taught. If Paarthurnax remembers anything of importance, we will summon you again. If not, we will summon you anyway to continue the next stage of your training."

She nodded, surprised that she felt sad to go. Although she missed the world below, the solemn quietness of the winding corridors had allowed her the chance to think clearly. She felt almost refreshed - she needed the break from the disorganized crowds of people. And she would miss the silent humour of Wulfgar, who was currently whistling a jaunty tune - apparently it was impossible for the thu'um to be present in a whistle.

"I'll plan to leave tomorrow then, it'll give me enough time to gather my things," she said.

"Of course," Arngeir said. "But please, don't feel any need to rush. You are welcome here for as long as you wish."

She smiled, grateful and tapped her foot on the floor. She felt fidgety. "Thank you. But I really __do__ need to be going. I told someone I would help them in out in a cause that was important to them, and it's been quite a few months since that."

"Which cause was this?" Arngeir asked, his brow furrowing.

Kyra paused, rapidly tapping her fingers on the table. Throughout her stay she had gathered that Arngeir disapproved of Ulfric Stormcloak using the thu'um to forward his own cause. No doubt Arngeir would try and persuade her out of it if she revealed she was going to join the rebellion too. So she just shook her head, flexing her fingers, and Arngeir dropped the subject.

"Very well. I will talk to you tomorrow before you leave, but rest of the afternoon is free for you to do as you wish."

She nodded again and stood up, still feeling restless. "Thank you," she muttered, and hurried out of the room. She headed straight to the courtyard, only pausing to grab her swords. She needed to get rid of the excess energy that was quivering in her muscles.

Soft snow was falling in flurries as she approached the centre of the courtyard and paused. She unsheathed her swords and crossed them gently over one another, perfectly in line with her chest and breathed in. She centered her mind, letting her senses focus outwards - on the soft sound of snow falling, on the bite of coldness against her cheeks, on the fresh scent that carried on the wind. Then she drew back into herself - feeling her heart beat in her chest, hearing her breath run smoothly along her throat. She was motionless, holding everything in place, feeling everything hover in time.

And then she __shouted,__ releasing everything at once as she exploded into action. Her swords thrummed through the air, carving a smooth path that carried her forwards. Her feet moved in time as she spun around, and jabbed, easily moving through the familiar motions. She controlled her breathing, feeling it rasp in her mouth, and flowed from one pose to the next, her muscles effortlessly carry her along as she relaxed into the stances. She leapt into the air, much higher than she could normally have jumped, slashing out with her swords and then driving them forwards into the swirling snow. She was panting now, her muscles starting to ache but she carried on, getting lost to the fluid motions.

Her sense of time vanished. By the time she stopped, darkness was descending and the sky was lit by a golden sunset. She panted, trying to draw air into her lungs and let her swords slip from her grasp - her muscles were aching too much for her to keep hold of them. They fell with a soft metallic clang but she barely heard them.

Her head was swimming and her legs were shaking but she ignored them both, instead making her way to the edge of the mountain. Despite the oncoming night, she could see for miles around. Skyrim was stretched out in front of her in all its glory, and it seemed so far away and distant, like she was peering through a window. But her worries certainly weren't remote - they stayed with her, pressing at the edge of her mind. Alduin. Dovahkiin. Prophesies. Morrowind.

Conflicting thoughts battled for dominance. She didn't want to be tied to a prophecy. She was her own person now and if she was to defeat Alduin, she wanted it to be on her terms. But prophecies don't generally allow people to entertain their whims - the very definition of prophecy meant something that couldn't be avoided. Even if she tried to run - and she was so very good at running away. She had run hard and fast and somehow she had ended up exactly where she didn't want to be - it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. She had no choice and she hated it.

She sighed, idly watching her breath swirl in the brittle coldness. The iciness was sharp in her nose as she carefully took in a breath, regaining control of her body. She was in control.

Kyra stayed until the sun disappeared behind the horizon before going inside.

* * *

The morning she was due to leave, Arngeir revealed that there was something he wanted to give her.

"I can have any book? Whichever one I chose?"

"I generally say what I mean and this is no exception." He gestured with his hands. "Any one you want."

They were standing in the library, books towering tall above them. Kyra had fallen in love with it during her stay. The gleaming mahogany bookshelves somehow seemed to collect no dust and the room was filled with the soft aroma of old books. She sniffed - scents of vanilla and wood wafted towards her.

With a final glance towards Arngeir to make sure he was happy for her to chose any book, she headed for the nearest shelf, running her fingers along the spines of each volume. They were all interesting to a certain degree, but none really caught her attention so she headed to the next shelf.

After half an hour of searching, she had collected four books that looked potentially interesting. There were two on the finer details of the Dovah-Zul, one on the hidden secrets of Skyrim and the last one looked at the Dragon Wars.

She agonised over the decision and had almost decided on a book when she happened to look up at the shelf directly above her. A book caught her attention, the silver embossed writing on the spine seeming to stand out amongst the multitude of books. The title was written in an obscure language, but the flowing script was elegant and refined.

Despite herself, her attention was piqued and she gently picked it up, trailing her fingers over the leather cover. The front was plain save for a small crescent in the upper corner and the spine crackled as she opened it. She winced in sympathy.

Strangely enough, she could understand the language inside, even if she couldn't understand the title. She skimmed through it, reading briefly over a few passages and realised it was about summoning. Summoning weapons, armour, Daedra. She frowned and was about to put it down - she had little skill for magic and a hatred towards necromancers and their twisted rituals - but a passage caught her eye. She tilted her head and started to read.

 _"_ _ _It is a well known fact that necromancers are looked down on by the general population - their rites are filled with sacrifices and blood - but despite their casual disregard of life, it has only been outlawed in Morrowind.__

 _ _Although there is no law to persecute necromancers in Skyrim, that doesn't prevent vigilantes from hunting them down and the law turning a blind eye.__

 _ _Unfortunately for many, myself included, people make the general assumption that summoning is the same branch of magic as necromancy. In many ways it is, as it comes under the rather general term of conjuration. But to refer to either necromancy or summoning as conjuration is altogether incorrect. There has been supposition that this term was coined by a mage who had no skill or experience in either - yet the term stuck. However, conjuration essentially means 'to create'. Necromancy does not create anything, not even life, and only uses what is already freely given - or forcibly taken.__

 _ _Summoning is more often referred to as conjuration, due to the common misconception that we create Daedra to do our bidding. Yet that couldn't be further from the truth - we do not create, we summon. The object or Daedra in question was there before us and it will be after us. Summoners are only providing it with a means to travel to Mundus and thus must treat the summoned with equal respect and fear.__

 _ _There is one crucial distinction between necromancy and summoning - necromancy involves the dead, for which sacrifices and pain are needed, and summoning involves Oblivion. When a necromancer reanimates a dead body, they do not summon the soul - they only give enough life force to the body for it to have a simple consciousness, enough for them to walk and obey their master. Summoning, on the other hand, reaches into Oblivion itself.__

 _ _Most Summoners are familiar with the spell to conjure a flame atronach. The spell itself calls to the flame atronach, giving them a pathway to Mundus, where they appear next to their Summoner. Despite people's assumptions, it is the same Daedra that appears every time, and although it is rare, a conversation between Summoner and Daedra has been known to happen.__

 _ _Skilled Summoners can create stronger bonds to hold the summoned. Even if the Daedra wished to turn on their Summoner, it would require a lot of power to break the bonds.__

 _ _This same theory applies to the rest of the Daedra, as well as weapons and armour. A specific Summoner creates the pathway for a specific item in Oblivion, and every time they use the spell, the same Daedra or item will appear. The time the summoned remain in Mundus depends on the skill of the summoner, and more powerful Daedra, like Dremora, requite a stronger pathway for them to reach Mundus."__

Kyra sat back, intrigued. She knew she shouldn't be, but that simple passage had changed most of her preconceived perceptions about necromancy and summoning.

Making a split second decision, she carefully picked the book up and headed out the door to meet Arngeir. He was standing in the corridor as she exited but looked around when she approached.

"Which have you decided on then?" he asked, slowly walking down the corridor.

Kyra walked by his side and held out the book so he could see. He evidently recognised it because his eyebrows rose and he glanced at her briefly.

"An interesting choice," he said slowly. "I hope I don't need to warn you of the dangers this could cause. I urge caution."

She nodded. "I know. It was purely curiosity that led me to pick it up - I just want to read it, not necessarily practice it."

"All the same. Curiosity can turn into interest, and there is a fine line between interest and obsession. Take care you don't stray over that line."

* * *

She hated goodbyes. They always signified the end of something. Once goodbyes were said, it felt like there was no going back. Even something as casual as saying goodbye to Wulfgar made her cold all over and it was an effort to keep her smile on her face.

She knew she would be back here. She knew she would see them all again - and really, it wasn't like any of them were particularly close to her or she had been completely enthralled with her stay, even if she had enjoyed it. But it was __an__ end. And nothing good ever came from an ending.

But she smiled and waved and said goodbye even as it made her throat ache and set off down the mountain, taking care not to slip on the treacherous ice. Her fists stayed clenched all the way down the mountain and it was only when she reached the streets of Ivarstead that she relaxed slightly.

She was surprised at how accustomed she had become to never seeing more than four people together at the same time. Here, there were people chatting and laughing with each other, crowding the narrow streets with their voices. The flood of sound washed over her as she stood in the middle of the street. People parted around her but none of them touched her.

Shaking herself, she straightened her shoulders. A little difficulty adjusting was bound to be expected - she only hoped she would get used to communicating with people soon. But right now, she had an aim. Her hand lightly resting against her sword, she set off in the direction of Windhelm.

The journey didn't take too long and she strolled through the scenery, enjoying the feeling of being surrounded by forests and sun and animals again. As she walked, she listened to the bird song and tried to identify the species. It took a little rummaging around in her memories to start with, but before long, she could name most of them. Her mother had taught her well.

Gradually, the sun dappled forest floor began to be replaced by snow and ice, frozen twigs cracking as she stepped on them. The walls of Windhelm rose up in the distance, but it took a lot of off-road journeying and skirting frozen pools before she stood in front of the impressively large gates.

 _ _Seems as though Ulfric is compensating for something__ , she thought and chuckled quietly to herself. She stopped, feeling awkward when a guard eyed her with amusement. She quickly headed inside to save herself from further embarrassment.

Windhelm was a vast expanse of sprawling buildings and twisting allies. It was cold and crumbling, but some of its forming glory was evident in the style and architecture of the buildings, and a flicker of the way the people carried themselves. But for every person that walked with a spring in their step, there was at least two more that looked tired and weary. War wasn't kind on people.

As she entered through the grand doors, she saw a small scuffle emerge to her side. Two Nords, evidently drunk, were harassing a young female Dunmer. She looked annoyed but accepting, as though this had happened many times before.

Protectiveness flared up in Kyra, and she marched forwards, positioning herself between the Dunmer and the Nords. She glowered at them and they looked a little confused that this short female was stopping them from having their fun. They eventually recovered themselves and glared back.

"An' just what do ya think you're doin'? You an elf lover then?"

When Kyra stayed silent and didn't move, he took that as a yes and laughed in her face. "Ya call yourself a Nord? You're a betrayer, an elf lover. You're no better than 'er. Ulfric should toss yer all out the city!"

He laughed again. Kyra saw his teeth were rotting and grew tired of the one-sided conversation. She smoothly drew her sword and laid it gently across his throat, the metal cold. His hands went to his weapon but Kyra unsheathed her other sword and rapped the flat side against his knuckles as a warning. He visibly swallowed, his anger changing to fear. His companion just looked a bit lost.

"H-hey, careful love. It was jus' a bit of fun! The elf was part of it too," he tried, his eyes flicking to the Dunmer who had stepped out from behind Kyra and was fixing him with a glare.

With a quick strike, the Dunmer slapped him. Hard. He yelled and cursed but didn't move in fear of the sword.

Kyra raised an eyebrow. "Go," she said simply.

Removing her sword, she looked expectantly at the man and with one last muttering about crazy females, he withdrew and disappeared down an alley. __Damn, I hope the rest of the Stormcloaks aren't as arrogant as that.__

The Dunmer stared after them, her back to Kyra. "I did not need your help stranger."

Kyra just smiled, waiting for the inevitable reaction that was bound to follow. The Dunmer tore her eyes away from their retreating backs and turned around to face Kyra. At first, she simply frowned in faint recognition. But then she glanced at Kyra's eyes, at their unique colouring. Eyes growing wide and mouth open, she recoiled as though struck.

"But-but your eyes. Nightingale? Is that you?" The Dunmer was spluttering.

Kyra hummed. "I __was__ curious about whether any Dunmer would recognise me as far away as Skyrim. It seems you do."

"It __is__ you…forgive me, Nightingale, for not accepting your help. If I had known it was you-"

"Don't worry about it. You know I take little offense to anything."

"Of course. But accept my apology anyway." The Dunmer shifted, her eyes darting nervously at the people around them and Kyra followed her gaze. Most who passed seemed too preoccupied with their own thoughts but several glanced at them as they walked by. Animosity flickered in their eyes as they saw the Dunmer and confusion took its place when they took note of Kyra standing next to her.

She turned back to the Dunmer. "What is your name?"

"Senethys."

Kyra smiled. "Well, Senethys, I need a place to stay for tonight. Do you know a good inn?"

"There's always Candlelit Hall. It's easily the most common. But, um, there's another…smaller inn. Nords generally don't go there because it's located in the grey area."

"Candlelit Hall sounds boring. But this smaller inn? Do you think you could take me there?"

Senethys bobbed her head, looking nervous. "Of course Nightingale. But it isn't exactly posh or anything…" She trailed off and Kyra frowned.

"I'm sure it isn't too bad. I've stayed in worse places." She hesitated, looking at Senethys expectantly who still looked a little uncertain but started off. Kyra followed her, careful not to slip on the ice.

They didn't walk for long but as they continued, Kyra took note of the gradual decline of Nords and the increase of derelict houses and poor sanitation.

The narrow alley they headed down was strewn with forgotten rubbish and it was difficult placing her feet. The tall buildings towered above her but paint was flaking off and mismatched holes dotted the wall where bricks had crumbled away under the pressure. A faded flag drooped from a building, slowly flapping in the wind but lacking the energy to stand proud.

Everywhere she looked, she saw Dunmer - their faces cast towards the ground and their backs stooped from the hopelessness that hung in the air. Only a few raised their heads as she passed, and even fewer took the time to glance at her eyes and recognise her. Those that did instantly brightened, their grime-caked faces showing a glimmer of hope that shouldn't have looked out of place but did. They walked off with their heads held a little higher and their walk a little livelier.

She felt sick. The scene passed across her view and she swallowed, unable to tear her eyes from the surroundings. She didn't care that she had left the legacy of Nightingale behind her in Morrowind - the Dunmer still looked up to her and she couldn't let them down. Not again.

* * *

 **Please review just to let me know if there's anything you'd like to see in here - I'm open to all ideas!**


	9. Definitely not showing off

**Yay! Had my last exam today, so I thought I'd get this one out. This was fun to write, even if I wrote the second part before the first. Apologies if Divayn's name alters a little throughout this, I changed his name about five times before I found something that fit. Enjoy!**

* * *

They stopped in front of a rotting wooden door and Senethys headed in first.

Inside, two male Dunmer were standing, talking in deep tones. They looked up as she walked in and the closest one immediately scowled, his face twisting.

"What the hell do you want, Nord?" he growled. "Come to gloat?"

Kyra was taken back for an instance before she realised he didn't recognise her. Neither of them did. That wasn't too unexpected though - many had never met her in person and it was only her eyes that triggered their recognition. But his immediate response to a Nord walking in angered her; the Nords of Windhelm obviously hadn't made their hatred towards them a secret.

"No, actually. The complete opposite," she said gently.

"Why would-" He cut off, staring at her. "Nightingale?"

She nodded and Senethys stepped forwards.

"Virend, she helped me with the Nords. They came up to me again, as always, but she made sure they backed off."

Virend just grunted but the unnamed Dunmer inclined his head in respect. "It's good to meet you in person, Nightingale. I've heard tales of you - we all have - but I never though I'd have you standing in my inn!" He grinned and stepped forwards, offering his hand. "I'm Divayn, the owner, and he's Virend, as I sure you gathered. He's a little prickly but don't mind him." He grinned again as Virend grumbled. Divayn continued talking. "It makes a nice change though, having someone in here who isn't trying to insult or bully us. There's only been one other person who's even tried to accept us. A Nord, like you. She's staying in this inn at the moment actually, has been for the past few days."

Kyra narrowed her eyes in anger. "One person? Out of the entire city, only one person?"

"People don't want to come here. This place is disgusting but Ulfric won't do anything about it. Still, better him than that bastard Tullius," Virend said, the hatred evident in his voice.

"It sounds like you have a personal grudge against him," Kyra said, leaning against the wall.

"I tried to go to Solitude before I came here. It had a better reputation: cleanliness, wealth, options for work. I set one foot through the door - one foot! - and I was arrested by the bloody guards and thrown out." Virend slammed his mug down onto the table, his fist clenched so hard she could see his knuckles turn white.

"There are no Dunmer allowed in Solitude," Divayn explained. "Even if we're kept in squalor here, at least we're allowed to stay. And we're in a better place than those Argonians. They're forced to stay on the outskirts of the city, but that's more for their own safety from Ulfric's army than anything else."

Kyra tried to keep the scowl off her face but didn't succeed. "And no one's tried to do anything about it? Before the Civil War started, it didn't use to be like this."

"It wasn't. Although Ulfric has no love for foreigners, he has respect for anyone who can lift a sword to defend Skyrim. But when he killed the High King and set his sights on driving the Empire out, his army started their xenophobic views. They thought Skyrim was for the Nords only and that any foreigners must be driven out. But Ulfric only wanted the Empire out. It's reached a stage that if Ulfric did try to do anything, his army would start to doubt him. He won't let that happen," Divayn said, his face grave as he leant on the table.

"How the hell do you know all that?" Kyra asked. "I doubt you marched up to the Jarl's palace and demanded he tell you."

"You manage to pick up these things when no one cares about you," Virend replied, his voice low and gravelly. "Bits of conversation, the tone of people's voice - it's obvious if you know how."

"Virend's the one who told me about it," Divayn said. "He's good at getting information and reading people, even if he does insult them at the same time."

Kyra nodded, looking around the dingy room, and took in the grim expressions of the three Dunmer. Virend looked irate as he glared as his mead and Divayn was wearing a smile but his weariness was evident. Senethys hadn't moved during their conversation - she seemed as though she was only just holding herself together. Resolve hardened in her. "I'm going to talk to Ulfric. Maybe my status as Dovahkiin will give me the upper hand. I'll see if I can't persuade him to at least change something here. Make your lives a little easier."

Hope flickered in their eyes. "You would do that for us?" Divayn asked.

"Of course. I'm Nightingale, aren't I?"

Senethys looked as though she was about to cry. She jolted forwards, hesitated, and then launched herself at Kyra, sobbing into her shoulder. Kyra awkwardly patted her on the back and looked over at Divayn, mouthing at him. W _ _as it something I said?__

Divayn smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "She's just had a bad time recently. Her experiences have been somewhat more traumatic than the rest of ours." He didn't look as though he wanted to elaborate and Kyra didn't press him, instead properly embracing Llorosi. There was only so much Nightingale could do, after all.

After a few minutes, Senethys drew back, hastily wiping her eyes. She looked embarrassed. "I'm s-sorry Nightingale. I didn't mean for that to happen. It's just that you're prepared to do some much for us and-"

Kyra cut her off, not unkindly. "Think nothing of it. I can't promise anything but I'm going to do my damnedest to make this better for you. For all of you."

Divayn came forwards and put his arm around Senethys. "On behalf of everyone, thank you. As a small token of what we can offer, please stay here for as long as you wish."

"I may just take you up on that. Do you have a spare room for the night?"

Divayn laughed humourlessly. "They're all free. All of them. No one ever comes here."

Kyra winced at her lack of tact. She was normally better than this.

"Forgive me." Divayn sighed. "I didn't mean to cause offense. My sense of humour has steadily been getting darker over the past few months. And there actually __is__ someone else staying here. The Nord, as I said. It slipped my mind."

"Of course. Do you know her name by any chance?"

"It began with an A. Or maybe it was an L? No, I'm pretty sure it began with an A. Aside from that, nothing. Nord names all sound the same to me. Apologies, Nightingale."

"Why are you calling her Nightingale?" A new voice sounded from the doorway as cold wind swept through the open door.

Kyra frowned as the familiarity pulled at her mind - she knew that voice. She swung around.

"Alaedra?"

Alaedra was standing in the doorway, a smile tugging at her lips. Her long hair was wind-swept and her cheeks were a faint red.

Kyra paused and turned back to face Divayn. "Wait. This is the other person? The Nord?"

Divayn nodded. "I'm…assuming you both know each other?"

"Yes," Alaedra said.

"No," Kyra said at the same time.

They both paused, looking at each other before Kyra sighed. "Well, kind of. But we've only met once, and even that wasn't for very long."

Alaedra walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. "But the circumstances weren't exactly normal, were they?"

Kyra didn't need to look at Divayn and Senethys to see that their faces wanted an explanation. Virend was busy drowning his sorrows with mead and didn't look up. She shifted her position, leaning back against the wall again and tried to act nonchalant. "She was there when the dragon attacked Whiterun and was the first person to see me become Dovahkiin. We didn't really get the chance to talk much though and I haven't seen her in over three months."

"It's a nice coincidence to meet up with you again though. I assume you're hoping to join the rebellion here?"

Kyra made a face. "I __was__ going to. But a chance encounter led me to seeing the state of this place, and now I'm having second thoughts."

"It's shocking! I don't know how this is allowed." Alaedra's tone was full of indignation. "I've tried to do something about this but I haven't got anywhere. No one is willing to listen." Alaedra frowned and glared at the floor, her nose scrunching up.

"They will," Kyra promised.

Alaedra looked up. "What do you mean?"

"I'm planning to talk to Ulfric directly and I'm going to make the most of my name. Being Dovahkiin means that there is a lot of influence behind me, especially as far as the Nords are concerned. If nothing else, I at least need to try!" The words exploded out of her as anger rose up again. She took a deep breath but Alaedra looked as annoyed as her.

"You're right. Ulfric will have to consider it, and his men will too." Alaedra paused. "I assume Virend has already told you that Ulfric isn't as against foreigners as you think? It's the Nords in his army that insist on driving out the foreigners."

"Divayn did actually, but yes. I know." She sighed. She wished it hadn't come to this. Even when she had last been in Skyrim, over six years ago, there had been a lot of anti-foreigner feelings brewing. They were kept below the surface, but evidently all it had needed was someone to stand up to the Empire, and suddenly everyone was misinterpreting the action and discriminating against anyone who wasn't a Nord. Naturally, Argonians and Dunmer had received the worst of it. There weren't enough Khajit for there to be much violence towards them, and perhaps it was better that way.

Her time as Nightingale meant that she felt responsible for Dunmer. She had saved them, and even helped to lead them for a little while. She couldn't just step down from the responsibility as soon as it suited her - regardless of the fact that that was exactly what she had done when she left Morrowind. She couldn't run for any longer. At least, not in this case.

"Should we go now?" Alaedra's voice startled her out of her thoughts and she raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know. Should we head up and talk to Ulfric now? It's probably better if we do it sooner rather than later," Alaedra replied, starting to shuffle towards the door.

"Oh. Yes, we'll go now." She turned to the Dunmer, who were all watching them with varying expressions. "One way or another, this will be sorted. You have my word," she promised, and Alaedra echoed her.

Divayn raised his hand in farewell. "Thank you. To both of you. Even if you do not succeed, you have tried, and that will always stay with me."

She inclined her head and turned away, opening the door. She stepped out…and then danced back in again, frigid snow dripping down her face as an ice storm raged outside. Alaedra backed away but not quickly enough, and a sudden gust of wind blew heavy snowfall into her face. She spluttered as flakes matted in her hair and crystalised on her skin. Breathing heavily, she slammed the door shut again. They looked at each other through dripping snow.

"Maybe we should go later," Kyra suggested breathlessly.

Alaedra hurriedly agreed, both mirth and annoyance sparkling in her eyes. They turned back round again, and were met with smothered grins and muffled laughter from the three Dunmer. Even Virend was smirking, and Kyra's glare didn't do much to save her from embarrassment, although Senethys looked faintly contrite.

"Come on," Alaedra said and pulled Kyra towards two chairs in the corner of the room. They seated themselves as Virend returned to his mead, and Senethys and Divayn started talking in quiet undertones.

Kyra shifted in her seat, unsure of what to say to Alaedra who seemed quite content to sit. Something serious? Something joking? Both of them were generally characteristic of close friends. She decided on safe topics. She could do them.

"So," she began, "what were the plans you mentioned?"

"Hmm? Oh, I joined the Companions. I've only done a few tasks for them so far, but I've earned quite a bit of money already and it's a good way of practicing my fighting. Had a little difficulty at the start though."

"How come?"

"Most Nords don't like magic, and even if I am a Spellsword, it took quite a few missions before they accepted me." Her smiled faded. "And I still don't think they have completely. There's…something weird about them."

She leaned forwards, tilting her head in interest. "What do you mean?"

Alaedra grimaced. "I don't know. It's difficult to put your finger on, you know? It's just been small things so far - conversation completely stopping when I walk in the door, whispers and stares behind my back."

She hummed in thought. "It could just be because you're the newcomer? A lot of people are suspicious at the start before they get to know people."

"No, it's completely different to what you do." Kyra frowned and opened her mouth to ask what she meant by that, but Alaedra carried on talking. "It's more than that. Like…there's a secret they all know and I'm the only one who doesn't. And they get so __angry__ at times." She paused and started to grin. "Plus they eat like animals!" She giggled, and Kyra softly laughed too, covering her mouth with her hand.

"What about you then?" Alaedra asked. "Did you meet the Greybeards in the end?"

She nodded. "It turned out to be fine. I spent over three months there but it seemed like a lot less - it's just so removed from everything. Discovered there's loads of things I can do, now that I have a Dov soul."

"Such as?"

"Well…let's see. I can smell emotions, I have super-strength, and I can also create shouts."

Alaedra laughed, and then paused. "Wait, are you serious?"

"I often joke, but this isn't one of those times. I'm not even exaggerating, believe it or not."

"You can smell emotions?"

She nodded. "Including when someone is lying. I found that out some months ago."

"And you can create shouts?"

"It takes some effort depending on how powerful the whole shout is, but yes. I can. Using two words is generally better for a smaller effect though. It's pretty useful," she said and watched disbelief dance Alaedra's face.

Alaedra leant back in her chair and crossed her arms, smirking. "Prove it."

She tilted her head to the side. "What would you like me to do?"

Alaedra looked briefly shocked, as though she had expected Kyra to refuse, but covered it quickly. With a smooth motion, she drew her sword and laid it gently on the table. "I know my sword. I've had it for the past three years. You've never even touched it before. There's no way you can trick me." She glanced at Kyra and continued. "I want you to levitate it."

"Levitate?" she asked, slightly incredulous.

"And no magic allowed - just a shout. You admitting you can't do it?" Alaedra raised an eyebrow.

Kyra scoffed. "Never. I was just expecting something a little more…"

"A little more what?"

"Challenging." She contained a smirk as she saw colour rise in Alaedra's cheeks but she still smiled at Kyra.

"Go on then. You need to prove it before I believe you."

She didn't reply, instead searching for the definitions. She needed arise, for the effect, and blade, to focus the shout. Her mind tilted again and the meanings embedded themselves in her mind, glowing faintly.

Power coiling in her lungs, she allowed it to flow along her throat as she __spoke__ , eyes fixed on the motionless sword.

 _"_ _ _Zahrahmiik alok!"__

The sword shuddered, the tip slowly rising off the table as the pommel and hilt followed suit. It steadily rose through the air until it was hovering level with Alaedra's eyes, which were wide and staring.

Shivering from the rush the release of the shout gave her, she let the sword hang there for a moment longer before slowly lowering it and then cutting off the power. The sword clattered gently to the table and the Dunmer looked over.

"Is that enough proof for you?" she asked, enjoying Alaedra's look of shock and marvel.

Alaedra laughed. "That's amazing!"

A strange feeling overcame Kyra. She sat there as the sensation washed over her and couldn't draw her eyes from Alaedra. She watched as Alaedra's mouth curved gently upwards and the faint freckles on her cheeks scrunched up in amusement. Despite the dimness of the interior, her eyes sparkled with life. She felt the need to keep the happiness there. "That's nothing," she heard herself saying. "Watch this."

It was a shout she had developed late at night in High Hrothgar when she couldn't bear to sleep. It had originally taken a lot of thought to combine the words together, but now she knew the phrase, she could do it effortlessly.

She glanced over at Alaedra, who was watching her with anticipation, and __spoke.__

 _"_ _ _Zi__ _ _i peyt."__ It came out as a whisper but it carried through the room in a gentle wash of sound, reaching into every darkened corner.

Zii for spirit. Peyt for rose.

As she watched, the air in front of her swirled and condensed, collapsing in on itself. A spiral formed, a gleaming pool of not-quite-colour that twisted one last time before a shimmering rose appeared. It floated in the air, the colours faded as though viewed through a tinted window, but sparkling like a thousand diamonds. They refracted the dim light, casting patches of iridescence on Alaedra's awestruck face.

Alaedra slowly reached for it with trembling fingers but as she brushed against it, the rose wavered and dissipated, wafting into the air before it faded. Kyra followed the wisps of her creation before they became too fine to see and looked back at Alaedra.

She was still staring at the spot where the rose had been, her feature alight with a wonder that Kyra rarely saw in people's faces anymore. Her eyes were shining with an intensity that matched the rose.

"That…" She trailed off, breath catching in her throat. "That was beautiful." She fixed Kyra with an intense look. "Thank you."

Kyra shrugged. "For what?"

"For showing me that something beautiful can be made in the darkness." She hesitated and started to grin. "Oh gods that sounded so cheesy, didn't it?"

"Maybe a little." She hurriedly cast around for a new topic. The strange feeling had passed and all that remained now was faint embarrassment at what she had done. Really, creating a rose for Alaedra? That was the opposite of what she wanted to do. "So, um, anything else interesting happen to you lately?" she started as she crossed her legs.

They talked for a while after the creation of the rose, but they stayed on safe topics. If they did stray into deeper waters, Kyra always steered it back and Alaedra allowed her, although she looked a more intensely at Kyra whenever that happened.

"The snow storm may have stopped by now," Kyra said, just over an hour into their discussion.

Alaedra nodded. "They're generally violent but quick. I'll go and check." She headed towards the door and tentatively opened it but relaxed when it became apparent she wasn't about to be attacked with snow again. Kyra joined her, peering out of the door and watching the last remaining flakes of snow drift lazily down.

They said their goodbyes to the Dunmer once again, and started walking towards the Jarl's palace, carefully shutting the door behind them.

Fresh snow crunched underfoot as they walked, the sound comforting and familiar as it echoed in her mind. It reminded her of childhood - but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. As soon as she made the connection, she tried to force her mind away from thinking about it.

But the memories had already stirred. They wavered, trying to rise up but she pushed them down. She hadn't felt the dizzying panic yet. She could fend them off for now.

She made light conversation with Alaedra as they walked, both to keep the silence from getting too awkward and to distract her from the tugging of the memories. Those were the only reasons. She definitely didn't enjoy talking to Alaedra. Definitely not.

* * *

Ulfric regarded them both with a stern look. He rested his hands on the table and leaned over it slightly, but didn't move his gaze away. Alaedra shifted at her side, but Kyra stayed still, meeting his eyes.

"You…I know you, don't I?" But it wasn't phrased as a question and Kyra nodded.

"I was walking along the pass and was part of the Imperial ambush. We were both at Helgen together when the dragon attacked. I escaped with Ralof."

"That wasn't what I was referring to. There have been rumours circulating of a dragonborn with the most striking eyes. They wouldn't happen to refer to you, would they?"

Kyra clenched her teeth."Well, the rumours are true. I am Dovahkiin," she said shortly.

Ulfric nodded. "I remember you from Helgen too - I'm glad to see you escaped, now it's apparent you aren't an Imperial spy. However, I do not appreciate you marching in here and telling me how to rule my people." He spoke mostly to Alaedra now, who drew in a sharp breath under his glare.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alaedra open her mouth, no doubt to protest loudly. She quickly spoke over her. No need to get them both thrown out before Ulfric had a proper chance to talk to them.

"We apologise for that, Jarl Ulfric." She hated speaking with such deference but in a situation such as this, it would be useful. Anyone could see that Ulfric was a proud man. "We did not mean to insult your rule. We only thought it best that we inform you of the situation with the Dunmer. Some may be willing to help with the war effort in some way if their situation is improved. They despise Tullius."

"Believe it or not, I am aware of that. But most in my army would take offense to the elves joining the fight. They would question my rule, and I will __not__ allow that to happen."

"Of course Jarl Ulfric. But if you had the backing of someone, say, perhaps the Dovahkiin, they would be more likely to accept it." She was well aware that this was a risk. Ulfric would either take it as an insult and threat, or realise that having a potential political influence on his side could be immeasurably helpful.

Ulfric paused, exchanging a look with Galmar. He didn't look particularly happy with this change of events and was frowning. They seemed to hold a silent conversation before Galmar sighed and shrugged. Ulfric looked back at them.

"I will need to give this some thought. But even if you are Dovahkiin, my men will be more inclined to listen if you have a high rank within the army. Are you both willing to join?"

"Yes," Alaedra said immediately, both conviction and lingering righteous anger in her tone.

Kyra hesitated. She didn't particularly want to be forced to obey orders, especially from idiots who had no idea who she was. But she mostly agreed with the cause, and had promised the Dunmer she would do whatever she could to improve their lives. She hurriedly echoed Alaedra when the silence stretched for too long.

"Before I give you a set of proper orders, you need to prove your skills. I won't have any of my men dying on the first mission." She must have looked affronted because Ulfric felt the need to add, "I need to do this for any new recruits. It's a standard procedure. Galmar will give you your test."

Alaedra met her eyes and smiled, the excitement clear on her face. She found herself smiling too before she caught herself and quickly looked away.

Galmar frowned at them. "You," he said, gesturing towards Alaedra. "There's been reports of a fire atronach near Gallows Rock to the south-west. Kill it and bring back the fire salts." He paused when Alaedra didn't move. "Get going then," he growled.

Alaedra jolted. "Yes sir," she said, and quickly turned to Kyra. "I'll see you afterwards, right?"

Kyra hesitated and then nodded, feeling somehow guilty for the happiness that spread across Alaedra's face as she turned and hurried off to carry out her task.

Galmar faced Kyra. "Dragonborn. I'm giving you the traditional test. Go to the Serpent Stone far to the north and bring back an ice wraith tooth. They seem to flock there so you shouldn't need to search very far."

"I assume there isn't a time limit?" she asked.

"No, but do it quickly. Oh, and dragonborn?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't get killed."

* * *

 **I'm going to aim to get the next chapter out by the 24th, although there'll be a gap between then and the next chapter...I'm going to holiday! But reviews may just give me incentive to upload a chapter before then :) Hope you enjoyed!**


	10. Too deep already

**Over 4500 words in here - the longest chapter yet! Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favourites. Although I'm purely writing this for my own entertainment, it's nice to know some people out there are enjoying it :)**

 **FYI: There's a partly adapted quote from Murakami used in here. If you can find it, I'll be very impressed.**

* * *

Galmar was in the war council room again when Kyra found him. He probably didn't move out of there - he seemed like the type of person who lived and breathed war.

He scowled at her as she approached, but by now, she had figured he was probably incapable of doing anything else with his face, let alone smile.

"Well? Do you have them?" he growled.

Kyra gently placed the ice wraith teeth on the table, careful not to break them, and bit her lip to stop herself protesting when Galmar scooped them up and bounced them in his palm.

"Huh. If I didn't know you were the dragonborn, I'd be surprised you're still alive."

"Thanks," she said dryly. "So, I've passed your test, do I start going on missions now or is there something else I need to do?"

"I admire your eagerness. We need more of that. But before you do anything else, you gotta said the rites that'll recognise you officially as a Stormcloak soldier. Are you ready for that?"

She was a little hesitant about promising herself into this cause, but she repeated the words after him anyway, taking careful note about what exactly was expected of her. It seemed simple enough - be ready to die for your cause, be ready to die for your brothers and just generally fight well. She could certainly do the last one anyway. A thought struck her.

"Is Alaedra here yet?" Galmar looked confused so she continued. "You know, the person who was with me? You gave her the test of getting fire salts from a flame atronach."

"Oh right. Yeah, she arrived not two hours ago. No idea where she went. Anyway, get out of here. There's no mission for you to do at the moment and I gotta speak to Ulfric about the next mission. Come back here with A-Alda-whatever her name is, the day after tomorrow. There'll be a mission for you then - I gotta talk to Ulfric about it first though."

It was a clear dismissal so she left without saying anything else and headed back to the inn. It was late and Alaedra would be there, and despite herself, she wanted to see her. But no doubt she was already asleep - the moons were already high in the dark silk of the night sky.

Her fingers were turning numb as she opened the creaking door to the inn. Divayn greeted her with a smile and gestured with his head towards the stairs.

"Alaedra's up there waiting for you. I know you want to speak to her," he said.

Alaedra had stayed up waiting for her? She felt the familiar dizzying panic grip her for a second before it faded away. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She was getting in too deep already.

Divayn frowned at her. "Nightingale, are you alright? You look a little pale."

"Yes, yes. I'm fine," she said shortly. She started up the stairs and then stopped, turning to address Divayn again who was still looking at her. "Why would you think that I'd want to talk to Alaedra?"

"I can just tell," was all he said, so Kyra rolled her eyes and headed upstairs, peering into Alaedra's room. Alaedra was sitting on her bed, her back to the door.

She hesitated in the doorway, her head jerking forwards but her feet refusing to move any further. She wanted to speak to Alaedra, but was scared of what it could mean.

She felt the dizzying panic seize her again, slowly at first, and then all at once. And this time, it didn't fade away.

No.

Not now.

Please not now.

Thoughts rushed through her head and, ever so gradually, she felt the memories stir within her. They swirled at the edge of her mind and she stiffened, trying to keep them at bay as her hands gripped the edge of the doorway. Splinters dug into her palms but she didn't feel them. She was too deep inside her own mind, trying to stop the memories overwhelming her again. The outside world faded as she fought off their heavy grasp. She had been doing so well lately too. But the memories didn't want to be deprived of their fun and they rushed at her again and again, demanding entrance. Her conviction weakened.

And then a comforting weight settled on her shoulder as she felt a cold touch ghost against her face. The memories paused, as though uncertain and then gradually scattered, dissipating into mist inside her mind.

She became aware that a cool hand was resting against her cheek. Another was gently placed on her shoulder.

Her eyesight slowly sharpened as blurriness faded. A face swam into focus - Alaedra's. She looked concerned, her lips pursed and forehead furrowed, as though in deep thought.

Kyra blinked several times, her head feeling foggy. Never before had the memories given up like that. She took in a shuddering breath, relaxing her muscles which had tensed up at some point. Alaedra stepped back as though startled, her hands dropping to her sides. Kyra definitely didn't care about the sudden loss of contact. Definitely not.

"You back in the world of the living?" Alaedra was smiling, but she looked a little shaken underneath it all. That was to be expected - Kyra had no idea what she had looked like in the middle of fending off her memories.

"Yeah," she muttered, suddenly embarrassed. She hated feeling weak, and especially in front of others.

"Do you want to sit down? You still look a little pale."

The last thing she wanted was to speak to Alaedra about what had happened. She violently shook her head, but the abrupt motion caused her vision to spin and she stumbled. Strong arms steadied her and Alaedra hurriedly guided her to the bed.

Too tired to protest, she sunk down into it and put her head between her knees, waiting for the dizziness to vanish. Alaedra was gently rubbing her back. Kyra idly wondered about it - it seemed a strangely familiar thing to do to someone who was almost a stranger.

She eventually recovered but didn't move. She was thankful the aftershock was better than it normally was, no doubt because the memories had somehow been driven away, but regardless, it still affected her. And she hated it.

Her hands were still trembling when she finally raised her head to look at Alaedra. She swallowed, wondering whether she'd be able to escape to the safety of her room, but judging by Alaedra's intense look, it didn't seem likely.

"What was all that about then?" Alaedra spoke softly, carefully.

She shook her head. "It wasn't anything. Just got caught up in my own head, I guess." She forced a laugh.

"Really? Because it kinda looked like you were in pain."

"No, it's alright. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Alaedra said, doubt in her tone.

"Then don't look," she snapped and then felt guilty as Alaedra's face dropped. She sighed. "I'm sorry. But honestly, I'm fine now. See?" She put on her best fake smile and Alaedra hesitantly smiled back. She didn't look completely convinced but dropped the subject.

"Let me see your hands."

"Huh?" Kyra was confused until she glanced at them and saw the jagged splinters from the door frame embedded in her palms. It still didn't hurt, but beads of blood were welling up, glittering crimson in the dim light.

Alaedra gently took Kyra's hands in her own, careful not to touch any of the wood shards. "I'll heal them for you, if you want? I'll need to take all the splinters out first though."

"Um. Yes, please." A pause. "Thank you?" It was intended as a statement but came out as more of a question. She winced as the first splinter was pulled out.

"Sorry," Alaedra said, and then pulled out the next one. Kyra's hand jerked involuntarily. Alaedra apologised again and the cycle continued until all the splinters were scattered on the floor.

Alaedra tutted as she inspected her hands. "Why is it that every time we meet, it's always you getting injured and me having to heal you?"

"We've only met three times," Kyra reminded her.

"And of those three, I've needed to heal you twice. Don't you know any healing spells?"

"To be honest, I can barely use magic at all. We don't really get on - I normally have healing potions. I'm guessing magic comes naturally to you?"

"Most magic does. Now, hold still and I'll heal your hands properly."

Kyra did as she was told and watched Alaedra lightly placed her fingers on Kyra's palm. A trail of gold light flowed out, healing the broken skin as Alaedra ran her fingers gently over her palm.

The simple motion struck something deep in Kyra. Her emotions were already swirling from the near emergence of the memories, and Alaedra's gentle care brought a lump to her throat. She swallowed thickly. Why was she being so kind to her? Alaedra barely knew her.

"Does there need to be a reason for simple kindness?" Alaedra said, absorbing in carefully healing each part of her hand.

Kyra startled, before realising she must have said the last part aloud. She blushed. "It's just…unusual, that's all," she tried to cover.

"Perhaps. I'll admit, there isn't much of it in Skyrim. But that doesn't mean I'll change to suit the context. And really, what's the point in knowing magic if you're not going to help a friend?" She finished healing Kyra and with one last lingering touch, withdrew her hands.

Kyra sucked in a breath and stiffened. __Friend__. Alaedra had called her a friend. They barely knew each other.

She abruptly stood up and Alaedra threw her a startled look.

"Where are you going?"

"To my room. It's late and I'm tired," she said shortly, taking long strides to the door.

"Hang on, wait!" Alaedra hurried after her, pausing by the door. "Are you okay? I thought we were just getting to know each other."

"I've already told you, I'm fine. I just need to go."

Alaedra paused and sighed. "I'm sorry if I've done something. Whatever it was, I didn't mean to. But…I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

Her immediate refusal died on her lips when she looked at Alaedra and the light scattering of freckles on her cheeks scrunched up in worry. Instead, she just said, "I'll see if I'm free. Maybe."

"If you __are__ free tomorrow, then I'll be by the frozen lake in front of the city in the morning. Ice-skating. You know. Just in case," Alaedra said casually, shrugging.

Well, at least it was something she'd never done before. Maybe she would join Alaedra, just to see what ice-skating was like. And really, how hard could it be?

* * *

Not that hard at all, as it turned out. Once she learned never to lean back, she began to pick up the pace, feeling her make-shift skates glide against the ice. She titled her weight to the side and her skates followed, sweeping her effortlessly along as she looped an infinity symbol around Alaedra. By now, Alaedra had given up and was standing in the middle of the ice, watching Kyra and pouting adorably.

Kyra faltered as the unwanted thought floated into her head. Her sudden lapse in concentration had her sailing past Alaedra, missing her by mere centimetres. Alaedra jumped back, laughing and Kyra allowed herself a minute to smile.

"I thought you said you'd never gone ice-skating before?" Alaedra asked as they slowly skated back to solid land.

"I haven't. I guess I'm just amazing." Kyra smirked. She decided to show off a little and twisted around so she was skating smoothly backwards, keeping eye contact with Alaedra.

Alaedra huffed but a smile was pulling at her lips. She kept darting quick glances towards Kyra's eyes and Kyra knew she was wondering about the unusual colouring. Alaedra had been better than most at not asking annoying questions about them, but the curiosity was still there. Kyra silently wondered how long it would take until she gave in and asked about them.

They reached solid land again and stepped onto it gratefully. She felt weird as they headed back to Windhelm. The flowing motions of ice skating were very different to the abrupt paces she now took. She supposed it was a similar idea to spending time at sea - the last time she had spent time on water, she had been swaying for hours after she stepped onto firm ground.

She settled into her thoughts, thinking about how easily the human mind can be fooled. It could adjust to a situation but sometimes not quickly enough. The pathways between ideas and thoughts become stronger with use and even as your body and mind work in harmony to adapt to a new scenario, it often doesn't easily adjust if returned to the original situation.

That said, people still need routine. It's a theme in everything they do - even something as abstract as music can be dictated by logic and repetition. But routine can limit creativity and actions and changes the world into something dull and monotonous. It turns into a cage and even if you escaped that, weren't you just in another, larger one?

"Can you show me something else?" Alaedra asked as they strolled through the sparse landscape outside of Windhelm. The snow had fallen heavily in the night and the trees were towering pillars of ice, although thin sprigs of green poked through their frozen prison.

"What do you mean?" she replied, kicking some snow up and watching it gently fall to the ground.

"The shouts. What you did last time…it was amazing." Alaedra looked at her and smiled. "Could you do something else?"

She hesitated, wariness warring with contentment. "Anything in particular?"

"I don't mind. Whatever you want."

She thought for a second, tilting her head. She wanted to do something thoughtful, but nothing as far as creating a rose - that had been too much then, and it was still too much now.

Glancing around at her surroundings, an idea struck her as something caught her eye. A spindly tree was trying to force its way out of the snow but it was suffering from the icy coldness - the leaves were shriveled up like pitiful hands trying to grasp onto life, and the weak branches were lightly drooping, scraping along the ground.

Only half-aware of Alaedra standing behind her, she headed towards the tree, searching for the words as she did. She found them easily enough - she had already learnt them whilst in High Hrothgar and it only took a little rummaging around in her memory before she knew what she was going to say. __Lahrey__ for live _ _. Reyth__ for tree.

It was a struggle to combine them together. The outcome she wanted was advanced, and she wasn't entirely sure whether using just two words would achieve the desired effect. But she wanted to try - and before she could test whether it would be strong enough, she first had to understand the phrase. It took her over two minutes before it was hovering on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be released. So she released it.

 _"_ _ _Reyth lahrey!"__

Her throat tingled with power - an intoxicating, heady sensation that made her body feel light.

But nothing happened. She held her breath, and after a motionless pause, she saw the tree __shiver__ , leaves trembling. The old leaves lost their grip on the branches and gently tumbled towards the snow, but dissipated into a fine mist before they could touch it. New leaves unfurled in their place and green sprouts started emerging from the branches, spreading upwards as though seeking life. Delicate flowers blossomed from the new buds, the pale pinks and yellows a welcome sight in the desolate iciness.

The tree still looked a little weak, but she had given it a chance to live. And without three words, the effect and scale would be limited. The Grey Beards had told her not to attempt creating any full shouts without their guidance - which would occur when they summoned her again. Whenever that would be.

She smiled, gently touching a finger to her creation. The leaves felt warm beneath her skin. She turned to face Alaedra, expecting to see wonder in her eyes again, but instead she looked…worried?

She swallowed. "What's wrong?"

Alaedra didn't reply and she was about to ask again, but then she realised Alaedra wasn't looking at her. No…she was looking over Kyra's shoulder, her hand gripping her sword hilt.

Kyra whirled round, drawing her swords and expecting to be forced to fight. As her eyes took in the sight, she sucked in a sharp breath.

Two fully grown snowy Sabre cats were crouched in the snow not two metres from them, eyes intense and striped tails softly twitching. The largest Sabre cat's mouth was slightly open, and she could see the gleaming teeth as pale as snow.

There was a gentle crackle behind her. Without pausing to think she threw herself at Alaedra - almost knocking her to the ground in the process - and forced Alaedra's arm down from the steady motion of throwing a fireball at the perceived threat. Alaedra struggled against her, her eyes filled with confusion.

"Extinguish the fire," she said fiercely. "They don't like it."

"What the hell are you doing?" Alaedra bit out. She wrenched free and turned to face the Sabre cats again, who were snarling now, their muscles tensing in preparation to leap.

Kyra growled in irritation and took a step closer to Alaedra, focusing on the fire in her hand. " _ _Evenaar yol,"__ she near shouted, and then sighed with relief as the fire flickered and died.

She ignored Alaedra's sharp protest and focused on the Sabre cats, who were no longer growling but were still wary. With steady paces, she moved towards them, making a show of sheathing her weapons. As she grew within touching distance, the smallest one took a few pads towards her, his eyes guarded but curious.

She reached out a hand, unsure of their reaction. The effect of her gift varied from animal to animal - some would be hostile, even if they didn't attack, whereas others would latch onto her and defend her to their last breath.

The Sabre cat cocked his head and then gently butted his head against her hand, reminiscent of a domesticated cat. A faint rumbling sound filled the air and she smiled when she realised he was purring.

The larger Sabre cat approached her too, but before he grew too close, he stopped and regarded her with faint hostility. He pawed at the ground, trying to decide whether to get closer, but after a pause he backed off, turning and pacing off into the wilderness. His sleek body faded into obscurity against a backdrop of ice.

Meanwhile, the smaller Sabre cat was getting used to her scent. His nose quivered as he padded around her.

Careful not to make any sudden moves, she glanced Alaedra. She was watching with wide eyes, her mouth open.

"Close your mouth," she teased, "or you'll catch flies."

Alaedra shut her jaw with a click and exhaled in amazement. "When you said you had an arrangement with wildlife, I didn't think you meant it quite like this!" She gestured to the Sabre cat, who was now lying docilely on the ground and gazing up at her.

She smiled. "It changes depending on the animal. Now, I need to name him."

"Name it?" Alaedra exclaimed. She moved over to Kyra, but her hand was still hovering over her sword hilt and she didn't take her eyes off the animal.

She hummed in agreement. "If he's to accompany us, he needs a name."

"Why would it accompany us? It's just a wild animal." Alaedra made a face.

Kyra frowned. "They have more intelligence than you think. And he doesn't want to go."

"How can you tell?"

"I just can," was all she said, and Alaedra huffed in faint annoyance. "And don't worry. He won't attack us. He was only wary at the start because you were a threat."

"And what, I'm not now?" Alaedra asked, tossing her hair.

"You're with me. If you aren't hostile, he'll treat you with almost as much respect as me." She crouched beside him, and ruffled his chest. "Now, for a name…" She trailed off. "Any thoughts?" she asked Alaedra, but there was no answer so she carried on talking. "How about Iizaak?"

The Sabre cat purred louder and she smiled. "Iizaak it is then. It means ice guide," she said to Alaedra. "Quite appropriate, don't you think?"

"I guess…" Alaedra said, but she sounded hesitant.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Don't worry."

Kyra swung around to face her. "Something obviously __is__ wrong. What is it?"

"It's just that I don't know anything about you. Nothing. Even now, when something as…as __important__ as this has happened, you won't explain." Kyra started to protest but Alaedra cut her off. "I know you won't explain anything, don't deny it."

Kyra stared at her, fists clenched. Iizaak silently rose to his feet. "And why the hell should I suddenly tell you my life story? I hardly know you and I don't owe you anything."

"No, no! I don't mean it that way." Alaedra sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

"And in what way do you mean it then?" she growled.

"Look. I was only making the point that you don't want to share your past. And that's fine. I just…I don't know. Forget I said anything. Please?"

She let out a breath, softly running her fingers through Iizaak's fur. She didn't want to back down but she wasn't in the mood to argue. "Fine. It was just a bit rich coming from you, seeing as I don't know anything about you either."

Alaedra let out a huff. "Well, what do you want to know about me? There's nothing interesting worth knowing. Nothing," she said, and there was a trace of bitterness in it.

Kyra was taken aback. "Don't say it like that. It isn't true."

"Yes, it is. Nothing in my life has stood out. I grew up on a farm - a farm! - and if that doesn't tell you all you need to know, I don't know what does.

There was a pause. "I grew up on a farm too," Kyra said quietly.

Alaedra looked a little shocked. "But look at you now! You were lucky to escape that life and get this one of adventure. It's only just happened for me - under a year."

She laughed, but there was no humour. "Lucky? __Lucky?__ I didn't want this - I didn't want any of this. It's only caused pain," she said.

"Then why did you leave your home if you didn't want this? Adventure is the only reason I came here," Alaedra said. "Well, that, and join the rebellion."

She was silent for a while, watching snow clouds float lazily above her head. Iizaak shifted beneath her hand, restless. She felt his muscles ripple under his thick fur. "Have you even considered the reason that I __had__ to leave? Not that I necessarily wanted to - but that I had to?" she said softly.

It was Alaedra's turn to be silent. They stood together in the snow, feeling the wind on their faces. "Do you regret it completely though? Does every part of you wish to return to the past?" she asked at last.

Kyra let out a breath and wrapped her arms around her body. "I don't know. There have been a lot of hard times - but there have been a lot of amazing times too. Times I wouldn't miss for the world." She paused, shuffling her feet and watching as her footprints appeared in the snow. "If I had to chose - if I __really__ had to make a decision - I would probably...oh, I don't know. I'm only a product of my memories and experiences, but.…" She trailed off, feeling her throat close up with a familiar thickness.

At Alaedra's questioning look, she shook her head. "We should get back," she said, changing the subject and making a sharp gesture towards Iizaak, who was waiting patiently. He seemed to understand because with one last headbutt, he trotted off into the snow. She knew he would come back when called.

Alaedra sighed, looking as those she wanted to say something else, but decided against it. "Okay," she said instead and Kyra offered a quick smile that was gone as soon as it appeared.

* * *

That night, she lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. Alaedra's gentle snuffling sounded rhythmically from the other bed and Kyra wished she could join her in the world of sleep. But although her body was tired, her mind was whirling. Alaedra's question echoed in her thoughts. D _ _oes every part of you wish to return to the past?__

She hadn't been lying when she said she didn't know. That was the truth - she had long given up on trying to understand her mind. But try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about it. About the past.

There had been so much pain - but there had also been so much happiness.

Everytime she met someone new and explored their lives of exotic experiences and delicate relationships, she smiled. Because it was a privilege to be trusted so much by a stranger, and it was a privilege to experience their lives with them.

And everytime she stumbled upon a new, untouched place, known only to her and a few others, she smiled. Because it was a pleasure to be able to see the world at its finest, and it was a pleasure to share it with the people around her.

It was at those times - when she was travelling, when she was Nightingale - that she had been happy. Truly, utterly happy. The darkness of her past had been forgotten and the world seemed full of new possibilities and beginnings.

She thought she was prepared for what would come with fame and reputation - but her arrogance and power changed her priorities. It had changed her thinking. It had changed her actions.

And as soon as she made __the__ mistake - her mind shied away from thinking about it - the darkness of her past had come rushing back. All of it. And suddenly her memories became her very enemy. Her almost flawless recollection - which she had always been so proud of - became a curse. The past taunted her.

And it wouldn't let her go.

* * *

 **Any and all reviews will make my day!**


	11. My horse, not your past

**Sorry for the wait - I hope this chapter and the next make up for it :)**

* * *

As per Galmar's instructions, they headed up to the Palace of the Kings early the next day. The sun was just beginning to rise beyond the horizon as they walked the winding streets, bathing Windhelm in a soft bronze light as the buildings cast creeping shadows.

Ulfric wasn't on his throne again as they entered the main hall, but she could hear his voice coming from the war room - Galmar's too. As she walked the length of the hall, the words became clear.

"A crown doesn't make a king." That was Ulfric's voice, deep and powerful.

"Maybe not, but Skyrim needs a king. You will be that king, Ulfric! The Jagged Crown will force the other Jarl's to recognise you."

Kyra missed a step. They were talking about a myth - an ancient myth that had never been entirely validated - as though they intended to seek it for themselves. Surely they wouldn't waste valuable resources on such a thing? She glanced over at Alaedra and saw the same faint disbelief lingering over her face.

They neared the door and Kyra made a quick decision. She placed a hand on Alaedra's shoulder, preventing her from going through.

 _ _Hold on__ , she mouthed. Alaedra must have caught her meaning because she nodded and backed away slightly, her nose scrunching up as she tried to listen in.

Ulfric was still talking. "If you're sure where it is - and you've never failed me before - I want you to get the crown. Take some men and go to Korvanjund. Choose carefully - both stealth and manpower are needed. I've heard reports there's a group of Imperials camped outside, no doubt for the same purpose as us."

"And the two Unblooded's?"

"Take them with you. They need to prove their skill to the other soldiers, and having the dragonborn on this mission will give them confidence."

There was a pause. Kyra strained her ears, trying to listen but there was silence, aside from the faint rustling of clothing. She was about to walk in and announce her presence when Ulfric spoke again.

"Did no one teach you manners, dragonborn?"

She jolted, part in shock and part in embarrassment, and felt her face grow warm.

"Come in." It wasn't a voice that would allow an argument so she headed through the door, Alaedra trailing behind her.

Both Ulfric and Galmar were looking at her as they entered, their scrutiny making her shuffle her feet.

 _ _No,__ she told herself sternly. __I am Nightingale. I am Dovahkiin. I am not below you.__ She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, looking Ulfric in the eye. She thought she a glimmer of respect appear before it quickly vanished again.

"Well then dragonborn. Are you willing to help in this mission?"

"The mission to find the Jagged Crown, right?" At Galmar's nod, she continued talking. "It's a legend. There have been rumours of it existing, yes, but do you have any concrete evidence? I mean, sending men in just to discover it's a false lead will leave you vulnerable to a counter-attack."

Galmar grunted. "Good points dragonborn, but my informants have always been reliable. The crown __will__ be there." He looked at her. "Are you in?"

She tilted her head, considering, but finally agreed. "I'm in."

"And you, soldier?" Ulfric spoke to Alaedra now.

"I'm in," Alaedra said, and her voice sounded clear.

"Right." Galmar nodded. "Meet the rest of the force outside the gates by noon tomorrow. You'll ride horseback to Korvanjund as a group and I'll join you the day after. Take care not to set up camp too close to Korvanjund - you need to avoid the Imperials until you're prepared. Understand?"

"How large is the force of Imperials?" Alaedra asked.

"We don't have a precise number but we have a rough approximation - we'll chose enough Stormcloaks to combat them effectively," Ulfric said. "Now, if you have no more questions, I'd like to speak to the dragonborn. Wait outside, soldier."

Alaedra's lips thinned, but she nodded curtly and withdrew. Kyra knew she would listen in anyway.

Ulfric sighed, running his hand through his hair. "You leave me in a difficult position.."

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I'm the leader of this army and Galmar is my second in command. Our internal ranks have been well thought-out and positions of power - lieutenant and captain - are only given to soldiers after a certain amount of time with outstanding service. But a lot of both physical and political power comes with being the dragonborn and I know the effect you'll have on my men - you're a legend to them. You __need__ a high position in this army, but I cannot do that while you remain Unblooded. This mission needs to go well. There can be no mistakes, do you understand? None."

She nodded. "I understand."

"Good. Politics have to be involved, even in an army. I can't be seen to order you around completely, but me and Galmar must remain the leaders here. To circumvent that, Galmar will purposefully provide you with opportunities to prove yourself to my men during this mission. I can then promote you, giving the soldiers courage in their cause," Ulfric said, exchanging a look with Galmar.

Kyra frowned. "I get that, but I don't appreciate being used simply as an object to give your men confidence."

Ulfric held up a hand. "And I'm not suggesting that. But I need to use all my advantages. Are you willing to help?"

She sighed internally. She really should have expected this, but at least she would be treated with respect. "Yes. I'll help," Kyra said.

"In that case, that's all there is to say. Don't be late meeting the rest of the force tomorrow," said Ulfric.

She inclined her head slightly and headed out the door, spotting Alaedra leaning against the wall a few metres away. Alaedra raised an eyebrow but she shook her head, gesturing towards the main door and indicating that they would talk away from prying ears.

"What was that about then?" Alaedra asked as soon as they were outside.

Kyra looked pointedly at her. "I know you were listening."

She started walking, nodding politely to the guards. They snapped to attention as she passed - word must have gotten out that she was the dragonborn already.

Alaedra huffed. "How did you know?"

"I just did," she said. "I'm amazing, remember?"

Alaedra laughed. "Yeah, yeah! Anyway, isn't what Ulfric said a good thing? I mean, you'll get promoted quicker. Surely that's got to be worth something?"

"Yeah, I know it is. And hopefully it'll mean improvements can be made to the Grey quarter quicker. But I don't like being used as more of a tool than anything else."

"But if you think about it, it shows that Ulfric is willing to give you more power. You can use that as you wish. Don't turn this down just because of a little pride."

She felt a sudden flash of anger. Her body suddenly radiated heat and her muscles tensed as she turned on Alaedra, who was still walking, oblivious. But as soon as she registered it, the anger was gone again, dissipating as though it was never there. She frowned. What had caused that? Was it because her pride had been insulted? Or something else?

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, and realised Alaedra was looking at her expectantly. She hurriedly spoke. "I won't turn it down. It's annoying, yes, but it'll be worth it in the long run."

Alaedra nodded. "What do you fancy doing for the rest of the day then?"

"I don't mind. Did you have anything in mind?" She shrugged, honestly not caring what they did. It looked like another snow storm was hovering over the horizon anyway, so they'd be forced inside before long.

"I could do with heading to the blacksmith's. If I have enough money, a new set of armour would be good." She paused, looking at Kyra. "Any idea how to get there?"

"Absolutely none at all. If we wander around for long enough, I'm sure we'll get there eventually," she said.

"Sounds like a plan." Alaedra raised an eyebrow and before Kyra could respond, darted off into the nearest alley. "Catch me if you can!" Alaedra's voice floated back.

Kyra allowed herself a quick smile before chasing after her, feeling the coldness bite her skin and the wind tease her hair.

* * *

They were among the last to join the force of Stormcloaks at the gate. It was barely past noon - the sun was at its highest - but there were already soldiers astride horses, either sharpening weapons or talking with each other.

As her and Alaedra walked towards them, she made out a familiar face she'd been hoping to see.

"Ralof!" she called out and he whipped his head around, his gaze landing on her immediately. He grinned, urging his horse forwards.

"Kyra! I knew you'd join us eventually. It's good to see you again." He smiled, noticing Alaedra standing by her side. "Who's this then?"

"My…friend," Kyra said hesitantly, stumbling over the word, but relaxed when Alaedra smiled at her.

"I've heard lots about you," Alaedra said to Ralof.

He faked terror. "By the gods, I hope you haven't. Remember, all the brave stuff is true, and all the stupid stuff - well, she just made it up!"

Alaedra laughed. "Aren't they the same thing?"

"Aye, you got me there." Ralof looked hard at Kyra. "Is it true what they say? That you're the dragonborn?"

She nodded. "It's true. Word gets around quickly, I guess." She glanced around as she said it, and saw that more than a few soldiers were looking at her, either curiosity or awe painted clearly on their faces. It wouldn't be long before the whole Stormcloak army knew.

Ralof whistled between his teeth. "I'll be more than glad to have you both on this mission then." He paused, peering over as a few more soldiers joined the main force. He raised his hand in greeting at one of them and turned back to Kyra. "You'd better go and grab some horses from the stables - it looks like we'll be heading off soon. We're only waiting on a few more."

She nodded, spotting the sign for the stables. "Back in a minute," she said, and her and Alaedra headed towards the sign, winding around the organised chaos.

"How much have you ridden?" Alaedra asked as they walked. "I've been around horses quite a lot - I always used to ride them when I was younger."

"A grand total of twice."

"Wait, really?"

"Me and horses just don't seem to get on much. I've tried riding them but it always ends badly. They're too…unpredictable, I guess."

Alaedra skilfully swerved to avoid a soldier and continued talking. "I'd have thought your __thingy__ with animals meant you were fine with horses."

She hummed in agreement. "I don't know why. My guess it that they're too domesticated - they're more pets than wild beasts."

Alaedra nodded. "Maybe. Riding horses is pretty easy if you get the right horse. But if you're not used to it, it's won't to be fun afterwards."

She frowned. "Why not?"

Alaedra leant forwards and conspiratorially whispered in her ear. " _ _Chafing__."

Kyra laughed, quickly covering her mouth with her hand and shared a look with her. As she did, she spotted a man tending to the rows of horses. She nudged Alaedra and they walked towards him. He turned around as they approached.

"Can I help you ladies?" he asked, smiling kindly and offering a last pat to the horse he was standing beside.

"We're looking for two horses," Alaedra said. "The cheaper, the better."

"Ah, you must be new."

"I'm sorry?" Alaedra frowned.

"You're with the army, right?" At Kyra's nod, he continued. "All your expenses are paid for by Ulfric. You want horses, you want armour - no pay. So. Which two do you want?"

Alaedra immediately darted towards a tall brown horse, gently stroking his nose. He whisked his tail and gently blew at her face and she giggled. "I'll have this one please."

"Ah, the bay stallion. Occasionally temperamental but has a calm nature most of the time. And for you, ma'am?" he asked, looking at Kyra.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not good around horses."

He tugged at his side-burns. "I haven't really got much by way of beginner horses. Most of these are bred to be war horses, you know? But I'll see what I have." He walked slowly up the row of horses, considering each one. Kyra followed.

He stopped in front of a creamy gold horse who looked up as they approached. "You'll probably get on best with this one. She hasn't been out in the field much but she's very calm and light on the feet. What do you reckon?"

Kyra held out a hand to the horse, wary of any unpredictable moves. The horse eyed her hand with suspicion but then snorted and gently butted her side. She startled slightly but relaxed as the horse seemed content to go back to its hay.

"I'll have her then," she said. "Does she have a name?"

He shook his head. "As I said, they're war horses. Better not to name them, you know?"

Alaedra joined them, leading the stallion behind her. "Kyra, we'd better go. The force looks ready to move."

She felt the beginning of a flutter in her stomach as the man coaxed the mare out of her stable and handed her the reigns.

"Need a hand getting up, ma'am?"

She glared at him and he immediately blushed.

"I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't mean it like that. I was brought up to be polite, you know?"

Kyra sighed, feeling bad. "I know, I didn't mean to be rude. But I can mount perfectly fine, thank you."

She placed her hands on the horse's back and vaulted up, internally thanking her Dov strength for the extra boost. Without the power, she would have lacked the skill to mount the first time and would probably have made a fool of herself.

Astride the horse, she shifted her position, not quite knowing what to do with her feet. Alaedra, seeing her hesitation, walked her horse up to Kyra.

"Place your feet in the stirrups," Alaedra said, and demonstrated how. "Tap gently to make your horse walk, and again for trot. I'll teach you more as we go, but for now, that's all you need to know. Oh, and don't fall off!" Alaedra laughed and kicked her horse into a canter. She headed towards the main force, no doubt expecting Kyra to follow immediately.

Right. Tap for a walk. She did so and her horse started moving at a sedate pace. She relaxed into it, feeling the horse move beneath her, and after a few seconds, became comfortable with that.

Tap again for a trot. She gently kicked her horse's flanks and was suddenly boosted slightly into the air as her horse started to trot. Almost biting down on her lip, she struggled to find the rhythm of her horse, the bouncing movement becoming uncomfortable. She needed to move in time. It took her a few seconds but she finally managed to do it and allowed herself a small smile of accomplishment.

She grew nearer to the force of Stormcloaks, but her horse showed no signs of slowing. Alaedra hadn't told her how to stop, so as she rode closer, she instinctively pulled on the reigns and hoped for the best. Her horse tossed its head and she grasped the reigns tighter, but the horse slowed down, coming to an eventual halt. Kyra let out a sigh of relief.

Alaedra rode over to meet her and she couldn't help but be envious of the elegant way Alaedra carried herself on her horse. She tried to copy her posture but was sure Alaedra noticed when she left out a soft laugh.

There was a sudden flurry of movement as the Stormcloaks around them kicked their horses into motion and their voices reached a crescendo. The force was on the move. Kyra and Alaedra quickly followed suit and as one, the Stormcloaks rode towards their goal, hooves thundering against the ground.

She shared a look with Alaedra through the stampede of motion as she kicked her horse into a canter to keep pace. The wild light of adventure and the love of being part of something big was glowing in Alaedra's eyes, and she knew it was in hers too.

The journey to Korvanjund was long but the Stormcloaks had come prepared. Each night, when it grew too dark to continue riding, they unloaded rolls of fabric from their packs - light, but deceptively strong. These could be held up by branches to form basic shelter. According to Ralof, these were only used for short missions, such as this one. Any missions over one month in the snow required tents with insulation to keep the cold at bay. Most in the Stormcloak army were Nords, and as such, had little problem with the cold, but there were a few who weren't - mainly Bretons, although there was a pair of Orcs that mostly kept to themselves.

Kyra, however, was still a little susceptible to the cold and for the first two nights, had shivered in silence. Her pride wouldn't allow her to ask for extra blankets. But on the third morning, she woke feeling restful, a blanket draped over her. Alaedra was asleep next to her, curled up for warmth, and she felt something flutter in her stomach.

It took them over a week to reach Korvanjund, but Kyra was surprised to find she enjoyed the journey. The weather had remained crisp and sunny for the duration of the journey, and the skies remained clear of dragons, although she did catch a few Stormcloaks looking to the sky on occasion.

Although the Stormcloaks were clustered together at the start of the journey, voices shouting and spirits high, space slowly started to form between the force as friends coalesced into their individual groups. Kyra, for one, was glad. The constant bustling of bodies and stench of sweat had made her feel claustrophobic. Now, she could finally enjoy the scenery around her as she rode side by side with Alaedra, chatting lightly.

For the first few days, Kyra and Alaedra had ridden alone, talking with one another. She found she was enjoying Alaedra's company more and more - her quick wit, her intelligence, her kindness - so much so that she was almost resentful when Ralof started riding with them towards the end of their journey. But she overcame her protectiveness - for it most certainly wasn't jealousy - and laughed along with the two of them as Ralof regaled exaggerated tales of his bravery. He swore he had single-handedly defeated three dragons with only a spoon and a mudcrab as his weapons and pouted - although he would later deny that - when Alaedra almost fell off her horse from laughing so hard.

Despite the discomfort from riding - Alaedra was certainly right about the chafing, although it only became apparent when she dismounted - the evenings were almost as enjoyable as the days. Once the perimeter of camp had been set up and any potential predators scared off, fires were lit and the singing began. For a group of war-hardened soldiers, they had surprisingly good voices, and the few musicians among the ranks had brought along their instruments. Kyra couldn't sing for her life but Alaedra had no qualms about joining in. Her and Ralof, along with a few of his friends, had become popular choices for certain songs, a favourite being 'the age of oppression'. No surprise there.

It was also no surprise to find out that Alaedra had named her horse. Kyra had cautioned against it, remembering the Stablemaster's hidden meaning about them being war horses, but Alaedra was adamant in her decision to name her horse Alizay.

"Do you really think it's a good idea?" Kyra sighed. According to Ralof, they were only a few hours from Korvanjund but it was afternoon already and they had been forced to pick up their pace if they wanted to get close before evening.

Alaedra tossed her hair. "Why are you so against this? You named Iizaak. Alizay is my horse now and I can name him if I want to."

"No, it's not that." She shifted her position on her horse, wincing as her muscles cramped. "Look. The horses have been bred for war. They're going into a battle." She purposefully didn't carry on, hoping Alaedra would understand what she was trying to say.

"And you think it's okay to just treat them as tools, do you? That they don't deserve names?"

"I'm not trying to say that!" she said through clenched teeth.

"What are you saying then?"

She opened her mouth to respond but shut it again with a click. She sighed again. "Alaedra, I just don't think it's a good idea to grow too attached. I know you like the idea of having a close bond with your horse but we're heading into a fight and you won't be able to protect him. If you name him and he gets killed, it'll be worse for allowing yourself to grow close to him."

Alaedra suddenly looked at her, a piercing stare that she had to glance away from.

"So you think that I shouldn't get close to my horse in case he dies, to save myself the pain later on?"

She nodded and smiled, glad that Alaedra understood what she was saying.

"I thought we were talking about my horse, not your past."

Her smile slipped. "What do you mean?"

Alaedra scoffed. "Come on, I'm neither blind nor deaf. Give me a little credit."

Kyra swallowed, urging her horse on a little faster. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," Alaedra said. She paused for a while, looking as though she was thinking over what to say. Kyra waited, but before Alaedra could say anything, the Stormcloaks in front of them started slowing their horses down. Some of them dismounted and led their horses to the trees to be tied up. They must have arrived at their camp for the night - Korvanjund shouldn't be far off.

Kyra dismounted too, thankful for the distraction. The conversation with Alaedra had gotten too deep - she wasn't ready to talk about it yet. As she checked her horse was tied securely, she glanced over at Alaedra, hoping she had forgotten about the conversation.

No such luck. Alaedra was looking over at her too, and she could see the curiosity in her eyes. But resignation also seemed to linger there, as though she had accepted Kyra didn't want to talk yet.

A hand clapped her on her shoulder and she whirled around, half-drawing her sword before realising it was Ralof. He grinned good-naturedly at her as she apologised, her face growing warm.

"Don't worry about it - good reflexes is nothing to be ashamed of! Just though I'd let you know, we're about an hour off Korvanjund - we'll be making the last part of the journey tomorrow. Galmar is arriving sometime tonight."

She nodded. "Okay, thanks," she said, and glanced over her shoulder as Alaedra joined them.

"Are you ready to fight tomorrow?" Ralof asked Alaedra, leaning nonchalantly against the tree and crossing his arms.

"As prepared as I'll ever be. Besides, I'll have Kyra watching my back."

Ralof nodded, agreeing. "You can't get much safer than having the Dragonborn helping you," he said, smiling and then looked thoughtful. "That explains how you knew the black dragon would destroy the wall back in Helgen."

"Alduin," she corrected instinctively.

Ralof looked at her and frowned. She just shook her head, not wanting to explain everything.

"Come on," she said to Alaedra. "We'd better get our tent up before it gets any darker."

They both bid farewell to Ralof, who headed towards his group of friends, and quickly strung their shelter up between two trees. She tested the strength of the fabric - as she did every night - and found it was still sturdy.

Kyra arranged her blanket and sleeping mat on the floor next to Alaedra's, taking care to ensure they were all covered by the fabric strung above them. They had been lucky with the weather so far but the closer they got to Korvanjund, the more the weather would turn. A simple snow storm would be fine - they had enough blankets to keep the cold at bay and the fabric would protect them from the worst of the snow - but if any wind accompanied it, it would certainly be a long night.

Satisfied the shelter would stay up, she looked around her, taking note of where everyone was. Most of the soldiers were still putting up their tents, while a few others were trying to start a fire. Alaedra had headed off to tend to her horse. No one would miss Kyra for a few minutes.

She slipped out of the camp, heading into the wilderness. She had taken her swords but it was unlikely she would need them - she wasn't going far.

Snow crunched underfoot as she walked, creeping roots threatening to trip her up. She carefully stepped around them, trailing her fingers along the rough bark of the trees as lichen coated her fingertips in a light dust.

After about five minutes, she stopped, turning in a full circle. Raising her hands to cup her mouth, she let out a series of short, sharp whistles, ending in a trill. No sooner had the last sound faded into the air, she heard the soft padding of footsteps behind her.

She smiled, turning around and going on one knee as she greeted Iizaak with a smile. "Hey there," she said. "Sorry I didn't meet you last night - I didn't have the chance to get away."

Iizaak purred, rubbing his head against her hand.

She relaxed, gently combing her fingers through his fur and felt the stress seep out of her. She had been doing this for most nights the past week, allowing Iizaak to follow the Stormcloaks in the day - she sometimes caught glimpses of him in the undergrowth, a silent shadow creeping alongside them - and meeting him in the evenings as the sun started to set. She never stayed for long but it just seemed to relax her.

She stayed for a few minutes, idly chatting to Iizaak, before bidding him goodbye. He vanished into the undergrowth as she walked away but she could still feel his eyes watching her as she approached the Stormcloak camp. Alaedra was waiting for her by their shelter.

"Did you go to see Iizaak again?" she asked.

Kyra nodded. "You can always come along, you know." The first time she had left the camp to see Iizaak, she hadn't told Alaedra, thinking she wouldn't notice her brief absence. Alaedra confronted her afterwards, worried about her but wanting to know where she had been. Kyra had no issue with telling her, and had invited her along, but Alaedra always turned it down. Today was no exception.

"No, its okay. I wouldn't want to intrude."

She sighed. "You won't be intruding. Honestly. Why would you?"

"Because Iizaak is your…" Alaedra trailed off, looking thoughtful.

Kyra tilted her head to the side and brushed her hair out of her face. "What?"

"I don't know what to call him. He definitely isn't your pet, but he isn't really a friend instead. He's-"

"A companion," Kyra interrupted, and smiled at Alaedra. "He's a companion."


	12. The dying words

**No excuse for not updating...other than I'm lazy as hell. Sorry 'bout that.**

* * *

Yawning, Kyra rubbed the sleep from her eyes and watched the soldiers around her do the same. The sun was only just peering over the horizon and they had already been up for over two hours, completing the final part of their journey. Now, they were a few minutes walk from Korvanjund, astride their horses, all of which seemed to sense the soldier's anticipation. They danced nervously, whisking their tails and chomping on the bit. Kyra was trying to keep a tight control over hers, but wasn't succeeding.

"My father always told me to stay away from these old ruins," Ralof said in undertones to her. "This place chills my bones. By the Nine, I can feel it now - even this far away."

"I know," she replied softly. She could feel it too - it was ice and dust and decay and it made her clutch her reins just a little tighter. She glanced at Alaedra and knew by her pale face and clenched jaw that she could feel it too.

"Looks like Galmar is getting ready for his speech," Ralof said, nudging her. "He shouldn't be long - they're normally quick and to the point."

Galmar rode up to face the force of Stormcloaks and they fell silent, waiting for him. It was something Kyra had noticed immediately upon arriving - despite their occasionally rowdy behaviour, they all had respect for both Galmar and Ulfric. Galmar - helped by a minimum of two Captains - accompanied them on every mission, and while Ulfric didn't, his involvement in every other aspect of the cause invoked complete respect from many. Of course, there were some in the army that had no interest in Ulfric's aims and were in the army purely to fight and kill. There weren't any of them on this mission, but Ralof had warned her about them for future missions.

"We're here for a job," Galmar growled, his voice loud and rough. "We won't let anything stand in our way of the jagged crown. Those Imperials aren't here by accident - they want it too. I know some of you are ex-legion but they're the enemy now and they won't hesitate to kill you. Kill them first and don't give them any opportunities."

Galmar continued his speech but Kyra tuned him out. How many of the Stormcloaks were ex-legion? She knew Ralof wasn't - they had spoken about it quite a bit during the journey - but he had mentioned that some of his friends were.

"Captains?"

Kyra concentrated on Galmar again as two Stormcloaks stepped forwards, snapping to attention. A gold band on their uniform identified their rank as Captain. She knew the female's name - Jorlith - but not the male's.

"Take a third of the men each and spread out to surround the ruins. Leave half the archers with me, and the final third. I'll tackle the Imperials head on."

The two Captains nodded smartly, quickly selecting their soldiers. Both Ralof and Alaedra went with Jorlith but Kyra remained with Galmar. They had spoken about this last night when Galmar had arrived early at the camp - it would give Kyra a good opportunity to show her skill by being among the first to attack the Imperials.

The male captain's group of Stormcloaks headed left, and Jorlith's went right. Their footsteps retreated into the dawn and the remaining Stormcloaks stood in the clearing, waiting. None of them spoke. They were all preparing for the upcoming fight in their own way.

Kyra needed to prepare too. She breathed in, looking at the scene around her.

The previously untouched snow now lay churned to a mush by the horse's hooves, the crisp surface broken and muddied. Trees surrounded her, their leaves frosted over and curled up for protection, reminiscent of tiny chrysalis's. Gnarled bark covered the trunks, a patchwork of pattern and texture that was almost indiscernible in the dim light. Darkness still clung to the trees, unwilling to flee before the weak light of the newly risen sun as the waiting Stormcloaks cast shadows as long as the trees.

She breathed out, listening.

Muttered prayers streamed from the mouth of a Stormcloak in a jumble of words, incomprehensible, rising before dying away again. A horse snorted softly and the heavy breathing of soldiers filled the air.

She breathed in, feeling her muscles tense in anticipation.

The whole scene around her held an unmistakable feel of expectancy, a coiled tension that needed to be released. The pervasive feeling from Korvanjund remained, making both Stormcloak and horse alike shiver ion dread. And there was something else - a faint energy, undulating in waves. It was soft, sometimes fading away completing, but it always returned. She recognised it. It was the same energy she had felt when she had been standing outside of Bleak Falls Barrow for the first time. There was a Word Wall inside of Korvanjund and the knowledge made her shiver with anticipation.

She breathed out a final time, her preparations for the fight complete as she made a conscious effort to relax her muscles.

"Right. Let's move." Galmar's command was quiet and stern. Kyra drew one of her swords, leaving the other free for the reins, and coaxed her horse to move in the direction of Korvanjund.

They kept their horses to a walk, wary of making too much noise, but it was only a few minutes before they cleared the trees. A vast expanse stretched in front of them, sweeping snow mounds and stunted plants…and the crumbling ruins of Korvanjund.

Even from a distance, it was impressive. Towering stones climbed into the sky, simultaneously dwarfing the rest of the structure and highlighting its size. Large steps were carved directly into the stone, leading down into a deep ravine. Two sentries stood at parade rest a short distance away from the main part of the ruins, both holding spears vertically behind them in grasped hands. They weren't facing the direction of Kyra but they were alert and awake.

"We won't be able to sneak that distance without being spotted," Galmar said quietly. "When I give the command, gallop hard and fast at them. The sentries will raise the alarm, no doubt, but by then, Jorlith and Erus will have their forces attacking from different angles to engage the rest of the Imperials. Archers, stay here with your bows loaded, and send a volley when the sentries have been cleared. Everyone understand?"

The Stormcloaks all nodded, snapping to attention as the archers drew their bows smoothly.

"Dragonborn, I want you at the head of the attack."

Kyra nodded, unsurprised, and led her horse to the front. She shifted in her saddle, waiting for Galmar's signal and rolled her shoulders.

"Go!" Galmar whispered harshly and she kicked her horse's flank. Her horse leapt forwards, hooves thundering in the snow as she tossed her head. Too late, she realised she'd never learnt how to gallop properly before. Instinctively, she rose from the saddle and crouched low, somehow managing to maintain her balance long enough to reach the sentries.

In the time it had taken Kyra and the Stormcloaks to reach the sentries, they had raised the alarm and readied their spears at the attackers. They slowly advanced.

Kyra raised her sword high and brought it down on the helm of the closest sentry. The sentry used her spear to block but she was forced to dodge when Kyra's sword sheared through the handle in an explosion of splinters.

Kyra desperately tried to keep control of her horse as she passed and wheeled around to engage the sentry again, but both of them had already been dealt with by the others in her group.

"For Skyrim!"

The shouts made her twist around and she saw the other two groups had descended on Korvanjund as the Imperials started fighting back. They had all woken now and although some were fighting the Stormcloaks on the ground around the ruins, most Imperials remained in the deep ravine where they could deal with the attackers one at a time. The steps were too narrow to allow more than a few Stormcloaks to attack at once.

Kyra dismounted, drawing her other sword and approached Korvanjund, ducking as an arrow whistled over her head.

She reached the edge and glanced down, noticing an Imperial standing directly below her. He wore a deep red cloak with a golden band - similar to the Stormcloaks - that marked him as a captain, and was currently trying to put a helmet on over his greying hair. He stood on a platform of stone several metres wide that jutted out from the wall of the ravine, about halfway down. A small flight of stairs led down to the bottom of the valley but that was the only way onto the platform. There was more than enough room to swing a sword - and that was all she needed.

She jumped.

Her feet hit his shoulders squarely, pushing him into the ground as the helmet went flying. A shock wave reverberated up her legs and she winced in pain, gingerly stepping off the groaning solider. Perhaps she should have judged that a little better.

She knelt to pick up her swords which she had dropped in the collision - an unforgivable mistake - but upon rising, was forced to leap to the side to avoid a sword. The Imperial she had crashed into was standing already - a little unsteady perhaps, but his stance and sword position showed he was an expert.

Kyra settled into a cautious stance, one sword out in front and the other across her chest. The Imperial shifted his footing and she changed to suit, wary of how good her opponent was.

She was watching for a tell-tale sign that would signal his attack - a slight drawing in of his breath, a faint tensing of his muscles - but there was none. He was too good for that.

His attack was swift and sudden and she floundered for a second, barely able to bring her swords up in time to deflect his blows. The captain swiped his sword at her head and she ducked, trying to slice at his legs but he nimbly danced backwards.

She feinted with one sword, sweeping the other towards his head in a single smooth motion. Without his helmet, his head was the only part that was unprotected. He twisted out of the way at the last second and she nodded in appreciation - a good swordsmaster should dodge as much as they deflect or block.

A shadow flickered behind her and she whirled, raising her swords to block another Imperial's sword. Her arms trembled from the blow.

 _Kaoc_ , she swore, accidentally slipping into Argonian curses. This wasn't looking good for her.

She danced to the side, desperately trying to keep them both at bay and circle around so she could prevent herself from being surrounded, but they saw though her tactic. Kyra retreated and they advanced on either side, weapons at the ready.

Gritting her teeth, she advanced towards the captain and swung her swords in quick succession before spinning on the second Imperial and purposefully sending a lazy swing towards his head. As she predicted, he moved his head back, out of the way, instead of blocking it. Her sword passed harmlessly in front of his face, and as it did, she loosened her grip, sliding her hand closer to the pommel to give her extra reach. She reversed the motion of her swing, whipping it back and sending it crashing into his helm. He stumbled away, looking dazed.

She didn't have time to press her advantage though, as the captain attacked her other side in a flurry of motion. Kyra deflected his blows rather than blocking them outright, choosing to save her strength - she didn't know how long this fight would last for.

A sword stroke caught her off-guard and the Imperial's sword hit her hip. It wasn't a hard blow - it was at the end of its swing and her armour only dented slightly, but her side flared with pain. She backed away, trying to recover time and space, but aware that the second Imperial was advancing again.

Time for a gamble.

Ignoring the tingling pain in her hip, she stopped retreating and allowed her swords to lower slightly, as though in tiredness.

 _Come on_ , she thought desperately. _Fall for it._

The captain did.

He swung his sword towards her head, not believing she could get her swords up in time as a faint smile formed on his lips. He overextended in his confidence.

As soon as his sword started moving, she pivoted on her heel, twisting, and rammed her shoulder into him. Already off balance, he stumbled back and she shoved again. Not elegant or pretty, but effective. He fell.

Now for the other Imperial-

Something barreled towards her and she flinched, trying to move out the way. But the Imperial collided with her and she stumbled back, crashing into the ground. Hard. He was using her own tactics against her.

He stood over her, standing on her hand as she tried to reach for her sword. Her fingers scrabbled uselessly on the stone as he leisurely raised his sword.

There was a high-pitched whine. Then, a soft thunk. He jerked as the arrow took him through the eye slit of his helmet and he was dead before he hit the ground.

She looked at the direction the arrow had come from, only to see Ralof lowering his bow with a grin. It had been an amazing shot, considering how far he was away.

You're welcome!" he shouted, the words carrying to her. She smiled in return and Ralof turned away to confront an Imperial who had been trying to sneak up on him.

She looked away and cursed as she saw the captain had recovered both his footing and weapon. Kyra hurriedly clambered to her feet, snatching her swords off the ground. The captain wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Her only chance was to score a hit early on.

Kyra dashed towards him, blocking his blow and twisting as she did. She didn't disarm him as she'd hoped but his grip on the sword weakened slightly. She rammed her foot into his leg but he knew her tactics now and barely staggered, instead lunging forwards with his sword. She only just managed to dodge back.

His rhythm suddenly changed. Before, it had been abrupt lunges and powerful blows. He now settled into a wider stance, and his attacks became long and sweeping - more similar to her style.

She retreated from his first few attacks, wary of his new style and trying to change her own to suit. She tried to lunge forwards, her swords pointed straight and aimed at his chest but he slipped his weapon in between and deflected them to the side.

He stepped closer to her and she tried to move away, aware that he now held the advantage. The captain went low, aiming for her legs and she moved her swords to block but-

He had been feinting. His sword suddenly changed direction, heading for her face and she jerked out the way. Not quick enough. The metal was cold as the edge sliced along her cheek but the blood was hot.

She backed away.

The captain didn't let her recover and came towards her, swinging his sword in a wide motion once more. Kyra traced its path in her mind and raised her swords to block where she thought it would hit, but he changed it at the last minute, instead cutting upwards. It was only due to her enhanced senses that she was able to deflect it. He pressed the attack, not giving her a moment to rest. She internally thanked her Dov soul for the endurance it gave her as she-

Wait.

She was Dovahkiin.

Kyra swore at herself, leaping away from the Imperial and smiling viciously. He faltered, confusion crossing his features before continuing his advance.

She opened her mouth and _shouted._ " _FUS RO DAH_!"

The force threw him back, sending him smashing against the far wall with a painful crunch. He fell to the ground in a heap, his leg sticking out in a way that was obviously broken. Blood started pooling on the ground around him.

She approached, confidence returning. The cut on her cheek tingled with pain and she wiped away the blood that was trickling down.

The captain was still alive, but barely. He looked at her.

"You…are dragonborn?" he whispered.

Kyra didn't reply, instead laying her sword against his throat. The gold band that marked him as a captain was now frayed and bloodied, but the vibrant colour still shone. No wonder he was such a good fighter.

"You fought well," the captain said, wearily placing his fist against his chest in a sign of respect.

She frowned but her heart lightened. Honour wasn't dead - not yet.

"I go into death peacefully," he continued. "I…I can…" His voice grew weaker and his eyes started to close, breath slowing. She returned the salute though he couldn't see it now and sheathed her swords, grateful she hadn't needed to kill him. She turned to walk away.

He gasped. Kyra whirled around as his eyes flew open but they were wide and unseeing.

The captain choked, his mouth quivering. "I can see the void." His voice was a harsh whisper, sounding like nails on an ale mug. It was the sound of desperation and panic. "Oh Gods, what is this? I can hear the nothingness, the laughter, the silence…the screams."

Kyra moved towards him cautiously. His eyes were still open, staring at nothing and although his mouth worked frantically, no words escaped. She stepped up to him.

His back arched off the floor and she leapt back, twisting in mid-air to land in a crouch. Kyra watched as he sagged to the floor again, his cloak twisted beneath him like a sea of blood.

"They cling to it, burning, their eyes aflame! They bring the darkness…" he trailed off, quietening once more.

Kyra growled. She stalked forwards, a sword at his throat and she focused her gaze on the wall behind him, on the blood splatters there. Her muscles tensed for a quick slice.

"No," the captain whispered and she looked down. His eyes fixed on her with strange intent, looking at her, seeing her. "They _are_ the darkness."

He sighed, breath escaping him and his body relaxed as the light finally fled from his eyes. He lay still, blood slowly seeping from his body.

She stepped back, cold and shaken. Those words…the despair on his face.

Kyra let out a trembling breath. What was she supposed to make of that? They had seemed to be the words of a madman, but the look in his eyes had showed stark sanity.

She shook her head. She couldn't dwell on it now.

She focused back on the fight, realising it was starting to die down. Most of the Imperials had been killed and those remaining were soon surrounded by Stormcloaks who made quick work of them. Kyra spotted Alaedra, a small cut on her forehead, and she descended the stairs, hoping to alleviate the coldness inside by talking to her. Alaedra smiled at her as Kyra joined her.

"You okay?" Kyra asked, nodding towards her forehead.

Alaedra nodded, looking annoyed. "It was just a lucky hit. How about you? You look a little worse for wear," she said, concern lacing her tone.

Kyra looked down at herself and grimaced. Her armour was covered in dents and blood. "I…fought the captain," she said, shivering as his last words echoed in her mind.

Alaedra glanced at her. "And you couldn't defeat him easily?"

"Um." She hesitated. "I forgot I was the dragonborn and could use the thu'um to fight," she muttered, her face growing warm. She expected Alaedra to chuckle or make a humorous comment, and was surprised when she didn't.

"Well, that's not really surprising."

Kyra frowned. "Huh?"

"You haven't been able to use the thu'um for long, not even four months. Before that, you had to rely on just your swords and wit. It isn't surprising you haven't quite adjusted to this new source of power."

She grimaced. "Yes, but I have the soul of a dragon. Surely it should be instinctive? It _should_ be."

"You've got the body of a human, remember? With the life of a human. The Greybeards told you that you had a good balance between dragon and human, but that means you aren't ruled by dragon instinct alone, unlike the dangerous Dragonborns. You told me their dragon soul was so strong it overpowered their human side. Yes, you may have a strong dragon soul, but you also have a strong human heart and mind. I'm no expert at all, but using the thu'um instinctively probably won't happened immediately. Soon, yes. But immediately? Probably not."

Kyra paused. "I…wow. I hadn't thought of it like that," she said, half-incredulous.

"You're looking a little worse for wear," a voice said behind her, and she looked around to see Ralof strolling over.

"Already been said, I'm afraid!" She tried to make her tone joking but her heart wasn't in it. Alaedra and Ralof frowned at the same time.

"What's up?" Ralof asked, clapping her gently on the shoulder.

She shook her head, not wanting to talk about it yet. "Doesn't matter."

Alaedra caught her arm, stopping her. "Something's wrong. You _can_ tell us, you know."

She sighed, quickly glancing around to check there weren't any other soldiers within earshot, and then turned to face them. "I killed the captain," she said. "We fought and I killed him but before he died, he said…things. They were…" She shivered again. "They didn't sound _right._ "

Ralof was shaking his head, grinning. "Don't worry about it, Kyra. Dying men say weird things - especially here in Skyrim, it seems. I killed a bandit once and he used his dying breath to rant about carnivorous figs."

"But what he said…he looked _terrified_."

"Look. For every hundred men you kill, one will claim to see things before they die. Scholars have tried to study it, I think - some of the dying words sound like prophecies or other nonsense. But they don't mean anything. Remember that, Kyra." He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes for once.

She nodded, half-convinced and tried to shake off her lingering worry.

"Come on," Ralof said. "It looks like we're all meeting in the centre to count our dead and break out the healing potions. The Nine knows I need a good healing potion."

Kyra looked at him, noticing for the first time the way he held himself awkwardly and breathed shallower than normal - broken ribs, she suspected.

"Hang on." Alaedra caught Ralof's arm as he turned to walk away, but seemed nervous when he glanced back at her. "I could heal you…if you want."

Ralof looked confused. "One healing potion doesn't differ from the other, you know. If you've got one, best to save it for yourself."

"No, I…I meant with magic. I could heal you and the potions could be saved for people with more serious injuries." She looked like she was regretting saying anything.

"You use magic?" Ralof asked.

Alaedra nodded, biting her lip. "Just…forget I said anything. Don't worry about it. I know most Nords don't like magic."

He hesitated, looking at her, then let out a short laugh. "Ah, what's the harm in a little healing magic? I might as well. If you're still offering, of course?"

"Yes! I mean, yeah, sure." Alaedra held out a hand and a faint golden light started to glow beneath her palm. She placed it on Ralof's shoulder and trails of light crept over his body, gathering at the injured points before sinking into his skin and seeping away. He let out a sigh of relief, experimentally testing each part of his body.

"Thanks," he said sincerely. "But a lot of soldiers here are pretty wary around magic - almost hateful of it, in some cases. Just don't shout about it, yeah?"

Alaedra looked affronted. "And why would I do that? I know that Nords often dislike magic - I've got no interest in telling everyone."

Ralof held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, okay?"

Alaedra nodded, turning to Kyra. "I'll heal you too, if you like?" But she didn't say it as a question and walked towards Kyra before she could say anything, fingers already wreathed in light. She placed her hand on Kyra's cheek, over her cut, and Kyra shivered at the touch.

Warmth flowed through her as the healing magic closed the cut on her cheek and soothed the lingering pain in her hip - along with the ache in her muscles from the fighting. Not for the last time, she wished she had any skill with restoration magic.

She absentmindedly noticed that Alaedra's hand was soft against her skin - very unlike her own hands, worn rough by years of constant fighting and working. As soon as the thought occurred, she became hyper-aware of Alaedra's hand - how soft it was, how cool, how delicate. She swallowed, suddenly feeling very nervous, and glanced up.

Alaedra was looking at her, her clear grey eyes directed straight at Kyra. Her brow was furrowed, as though she was trying to figure something out, and Kyra suddenly noticed the warmth from the healing spell had left her body. She was healed - and had been for a while.

The thought seemed to occur to Alaedra at the same time and she withdrew her hand with a faint gasp, her cheeks becoming tinged with pink. Kyra secretly missed the touch of her hands but knew she would never admit it aloud.

Ralof was watching the two of them with a bemused smile, although that slowly changed to a smirk. He winked at Kyra but when she only frowned, shook his head. "Come on ladies. It looks like we've missed most of the check-up briefing but we'd still better head over there. I imagine it'll be the same as usual though."

"How does it usually go?" Kyra asked Ralof as they headed off, spotting the Stormcloaks gathered together, listening to Galmar.

"Anyone injured gets healing potions - that's always the first thing to happen - and we'll check who's present and who has been killed. Galmar will chose a few soldiers to maintain the perimeter if it's an attacking mission, like this, and if there's a person of high importance within the Imperial army that was killed by a Stormcloak, he'll find out who the soldier was." Ralof paused. "Come to think of it, I think Galmar said the Imperial captain had a level 3 importance - you killed him, right?"

Kyra nodded and opened her mouth to reply, but by then they'd reached the rest of the Stormcloaks. She quietened, hearing Galmar order a group of soldiers to maintain the perimeter until the rest of them got back, and to gather the horses together.

"Right. Who killed the Imperial captain?" Galmar asked, his gaze sweeping over Kyra. She didn't move until Alaedra nudged her,

She stepped forwards, pushing through the Stormcloaks. "I did," she said, thankful her voice was steady.

A flicker of respect appeared in his eyes. "Well fought dragonborn. We've been after him for a while now. I'll see you promoted for this."

Kyra killing the captain hadn't originally been part of the plan but it worked to their advantage and Galmar was quick to take it.

Galmar looked at the sun, shading his eyes with a hand. "We'll continue on inside now - no point in waiting. We had the advantage of surprise this time, but it won't be so easy onwards. Keep your guard up and protect each other." He turned on his heel, starting to walk up a flight of steps that led to a door - the entrance into the depths of Korvanjund. Kyra and the rest of the Stormcloaks followed him as Alaedra appeared beside her, having pushed through the crowd to reach her.

Galmar reached the door and pushed it open, his muscles bulging with the effort. He stopped on the outside for a minute, peering inside to check the coast was clear, before stepping through.

Alaedra looked at Kyra, a question in her eyes. "Together?"

She paused, wondering at the way her heart suddenly started beating faster - anticipation for the fight, no doubt - before nodding. "Together," she said with a smirk.

They stepped through the door and the darkness swallowed them both.

* * *

 **See you next time. Here's to hoping the wait isn't as long!**


	13. Hope betrayed

Kyra stepped into a small room, dimly lit by torch light. Galmar was already there, peering deeper into the ruins, and as Stormcloaks filed through the door to fill up the space behind her, she walked forwards to stand next to him.

"What are we dealing with, dragonborn?" he muttered quietly to her, taking care that no one could overhear. "I can see Imperials but not how many."

She squinted, gazing deeper into the gloom. The small room - that only managed to contain half the Stormcloak force - widened rapidly beyond the doorway, becoming a vast cavern. The walls glistened with droplets of water, stretching up to reach the ceiling far above as fallen pillars lay crumbled on the ground. Even with her enhanced eyesight, it was a struggle to see how many Imperials were at the far end of the cavern, despite their figures being lit by a small campfire they had managed to start.

"I can't tell - the steps block my view and I'm pretty sure there are more Imperials than I can see anyway," she finally admitted.

"No matter. We have enough men." Galmar nodded to her, then stepped away from her to address the Stormcloaks. He kept his tone quiet although the Imperials were too far away to hear, and the Stormcloaks turned to listen.

"There are Imperials just through there. We're not sure how many but we'll outnumber them for sure. Pick a man and take him down. We attack on my signal."

The two captains moved first, each silently drawing their weapon and moving further into the cavern. They stopped, crouching behind one of the pillars in case an Imperial happened to spot them. Kyra and Alaedra did the same as the other Stormcloaks followed suit, taking cover wherever possible.

There was a pause as Kyra and Alaedra crouched behind the same pillar. Kyra could hear the faint sounds of laughter coming from the group of Imperials and she risked a quick glance over the top of the fallen pillar, trying once more to see how many there were. But although they were closer, the darkness lurking in the cavern obscured the distant figures enough that she couldn't accurately tell where one Imperial started and another ended.

A drop of water fell on her hand. She looked at the bead of cool water, before softly blowing it off. She wiped the water trail on her armour as Kyra looked up at the damp roof. Another drop fell on her forehead. She wrinkled her nose in annoyance as Alaedra muffled her laughter behind a hand, before they quietened once more.

They waited. Kyra tightened her grip on her swords.

"Now!" Galmar shouted.

The Stormcloaks surged forwards, no longer bothering with stealth - the Imperials had already drawn their weapons at Galmar's shout and were trying to organise themselves into a coherent force, tripping over each other in their haste to confront the enemy.

Kyra allowed her Dov strength to flow through her muscles as she powered ahead of the Stormcloaks, feeling fire course through her veins. She reached the steps before anyone else and took them two at a time, knowing she had to get to high ground quickly to give the Stormcloaks the advantage. As she ran, she sucked in a sharp breath, the power of the thu'um coiling in her lungs.

She arrived at the top of the steps, seeing that the Imperials were only around forty feet away but she didn't slow down, even as they advanced towards her. It was only when she was just out of reach of their weapons that she allowed the power to rush from her mouth.

" _ _FUS RO DAH MUL!"__

The stones seemed to tremble as the closest Imperials were thrown back, contorting in midair before crashing into the unforgiving walls and falling limply to the ground. They didn't move again.

The rest of the Imperials staggered, those closest to the backlash being tossed back a few feet, giving the Stormcloaks behind her enough time to ascend the steps. The two forces crashed into each other, Imperial red mixing with Stormcloak blue. And then the fighting started in earnest.

She took Galmar's advice and chose an Imperial at random. Kyra scanned the fight, before noticing an Imperial preparing to join a small pocket of fighting. She moved towards him, her swords crossed in front of her in a defensive shield. The Imperial saw Kyra coming and turned to meet her, cautiously readied his axe, before stepping closer to engage Kyra in battle.

Before he got too close, Kyra reached for the thu'um, and __shouted__ , unleashing __unrelenting force__ on the Imperial.

But he was prepared. As soon as he saw Kyra open her mouth to shout, he leapt to the side, and the backlash only made him stumble slightly.

 _ _Kaoc__ , Kyra cursed, trying again, but to the same result.

Feeling her throat burn and a coppery taste fill her mouth, she backed away from her opponent to give herself room to maneuver. She knew she wouldn't be able to use the thu'um for a while - using all three words of __unrelenting force__ several times in a short time period meant her throat needed time to recover.

She internally cursed her endurance - or lack thereof - and pictured Arngeir's look of polite disappointment. Not that he would be condoning her fighting anyway, let alone in the army of Ulfric Stormcloak, aka The Failed Student of the Voice.

No matter. She dashed forwards, exchanging a flurry of blows with the Imperial as she gauged her opponent's weak areas. Kyra spotted an opening and side-stepped his axe, bringing her sword down on the Imperial's helm. The cheaply made steel gave way beneath her ebony swords, the frost enchantment causing tendrils of ice to creep across the helmet. The Imperial staggered, his eyes becoming glassy. Kyra had already turned away by the time he crashed to the floor.

Twirling her swords to loosen her wrists, she threw herself into the nearest fight, letting the familiar flow of the battle guide her hands. She twisted away from their swords, not letting any of them touch her as she struck and struck again, each blow of her sword sending an Imperial staggering, before the next one finished him off.

Kyra paused as the fighting around her lulled for a minute, wiping the sweat from her brow, and scanned the battle once more, analysing the flow of it absentmindedly. She saw Galmar viciously swinging his axe as Imperial threw themselves at him, Ralof easily dispatching an enemy and Alaedra…

She felt a sliver of ice pierce her heart when she saw Alaedra backing off as three Imperials advanced. Alaedra was holding up well but she was limping, the blood trickling down her leg stark against her gleaming armour.

And before she knew what was happening, she was running forwards, her eyes fixed on Alaedra's form. She didn't bother to engage any Imperials she passed, too focused on arriving by Alaedra's side in time to fend the Imperials off.

They saw her coming and slowed - they must have recognised her as Dovahkiin. Alaedra paused too, glancing over, and made eye contact with her. The relief was evident on her face.

Kyra joined her, breathing lightly and settling into a stance by her side. Without taking her eyes off the now advancing Imperials, she murmured to Alaedra, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for coming," she replied breathlessly, shifting her footing.

There was no time for further talk, scarce as it had been, and Kyra ducked the first Imperial's sword. She moved closer, blocking his blow with one of her swords and slicing the other at his lower leg. Kyra smiled in grim satisfaction as he fell to his knee, the tendons severed. He tried to get his his feet but Kyra whipped a sword into his throat, grimacing as he twitched, then kneeled over.

She glanced over to see how Alaedra was faring. And then she somehow couldn't bring herself to look away again.

Because Alaedra was __breathtaking.__ Despite her slight inexperience, her natural elegance was obvious as she flowed from one pose to the next. The forms themselves were a little tentative, but the gracefulness with which was moved was impressive. She spun, her sword flashing as her hair swirled behind her in a circular motion, framing her angular face.

Kyra held her breath as Alaedra narrowly avoided a sword, swiftly darting to the side. With only two Imperials, rather than three, she easily managed to defeat them, bringing the last one down with an almost casual flick of her wrist.

She turned to face Kyra, grinning from the adrenaline, and then hesitated.

Kyra shook herself firmly, realising she was still staring at Alaedra. "Come on, the fight isn't over yet."

Alaedra nodded, and turned away to deal with another Imperial. Kyra watched her go, before swallowing and looking around, wondering which part of the fighting was best to join.

She had started towards one, when something caught her eye. Later, she couldn't have said what had caused her to stop before anything had occurred. Maybe it was the sense of foreboding that was lingering in the air, previously unnoticed until now. Maybe it was pure chance. Maybe it was something else.

An Imperial approaching a Stormcloak only a few feet away from her suddenly gave a double take, his footsteps faltering. Carelessly dropping his sword, he stumbled forwards a few steps, ripping off his helmet to reveal youthful features.

Curious, Kyra hurriedly tuned out the rest of the dwindling fight, focusing on the scene playing out in front of her. None of the Imperials tried to engage her in a fight - they were all preoccupied with the superior numbers of the Stormcloaks.

"Revear?" The hope in the Imperial's voice was almost tangible. "Is it really you?"

"Juan…" The Stormcloak held his sword loosely, carelessly, as though he had forgotten about it.

"By the Eight, it is! You're actually here." The Imperial, Juan, swayed on his feet slightly, his face awash with light.

"I…I just…" Words seemed to fail Revear and he glanced at the ground, his fists clenching. And when he looked up again, his eyes were glittering and a smile was beginning on his face. "I've dreamt of this moment so many times," he said softly, almost whispering, and moved forwards, his arms held wide.

Juan choked, before darting forwards and burying his face in the Stormcloak's shoulder. "I still love you," Juan whispered, the sound soft and precious.

"I know you do," Revear replied calmly. And then he raised his sword and drove it into Juan's back.

He didn't even have the chance to look surprised before he crumpled to the ground, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face.

Kyra opened her mouth but the exclamation died on her tongue, perished before it came into existence. She stood there, numbness spreading through her as she looked at the fallen body of Juan.

And then she looked at Revear.

He was casually wiping the blood off his sword on Juan, a faint smile twisting his face. His sword clean once more, gleaming in the firelight, he stepped over the Imperial and brushed past Kyra without a glance behind him.

As the fighting died down, she finally found it within herself to move. She turned around, only to be met by the curious gaze of Alaedra.

"Are you alright?" Alaedra asked.

She clenched her teeth, wondering whether to tell Alaedra, but decided against it. Alaedra seemed to be largely untainted by the darker parts of human nature, and Kyra wanted to keep it like that for as long as possible. So she shook her head instead.

"I had just finished fighting an Imperial," she lied. "I was about to join the rest of the group."

Alaedra didn't look entirely convinced but seemed to accept it for the time being, and they headed over to the force of Stormcloaks. Deaths were accounted for, injuries healed, and weapons replaced, with the whole process only taking a couple of minutes. Kyra remained numb throughout, unable to stop the scene of Revear stabbing Juan in the back replaying in her mind.

She barely noticed as the Stormcloaks started trickling away, moving deeper into the ruins, absorbed as she was with her increasingly dark thoughts. However, she __did__ notice when Alaedra grabbed her hand. Alaedra's hand was soft against hers and cold shock flooded through every part of her body. She jerked her hand out of Alaedra's instinctively, swinging to face her, and instantly knew she had done the wrong thing. She looked upset and hurt, as though Kyra had insulted her grandmother, and guilt rose up.

"I-I'm sorry. It was just…unexpected," she stuttered, cursing herself for not being more eloquent. She normally was.

Alaedra still looked a little hurt. "I didn't realise you disliked me quite that much."

"No, no. I don't, I really don't." She hesitated, wondering how much she should say. "I just wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."

Alaedra brightened a little. "So we're good?"

"Yeah, we're good," she said softly.

"Well, seeing as you've got an aversion to people holding your hand, it seems I can't drag you around." Alaedra smirked, resting her hands on her hips. "Do I have to tie you up or will you come willingly?"

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry and heart thudding for some unknown reason. "Come where?"

The apprehension on her face must have been apparent because Alaedra laughed. "Deeper into Korvanjund, of course! We're nowhere near the crown yet."

"Ah," was all Kyra could say, her throat clogging up as she joined Alaedra and Ralof, who had waited for her too.

Both Alaedra and Ralof noticed something was up with her as they continued on their way through the ruins, but thankfully, they didn't say anything and kept their distance. No doubt they assumed she was still perturbed by the final words of the captain - and she was. But the most recent scene with Revear and Juan had shaken her more than she cared to admit.

As the force of Stormcloaks fought their way through Korvanjund, meeting several pockets of Imperials, she kept an eye on Revear. But despite the knowledge of what had happened, she couldn't see anything in his behaviour that was a case for alarm. He fought the rest of the Imperials calmly, almost dispassionately, and obeyed Galmar's orders precisely.

And so she threw herself into fighting the Imperials with renewed vigor, hoping to use the thu'um as much as she used her swords. And as she did, it became clear to her that she wasn't as advanced in the thu'um as she liked to believe. Her endurance was still very limited, only allowing her several shouts before her throat was rendered useless, and the actual amount of shouts she knew - and could use in combat - was also very limited. The Greybeards had focused on passive shouts, teaching her nothing that could be used in combat, and she was realising that too late. And despite her ability to know words instantly in the Dovah-Zul, her mind was too occupied with staying alive to have the focused thought required of a one-word shout, and the concentration needed to form a two-word shout.

She resolved to herself that as soon as this mission was complete, she would dedicate most of the time to mastering her shouts. Maybe she could let Alaedra help her. The thought made her smile, and almost succeeded in distracting her from the memory of Juan and Revear. Almost.

Thankfully, even if she couldn't purely rely on the thu'um, her fighting skills were more than enough. Galmar halted them at a narrow doorway - the perfect place for an ambush - and chose her to scout out the surrounding area for another way around. She knew he was providing her with another opportunity for her to be promoted and had obeyed without question, understanding his hidden meaning.

Take down the Imperils without our help.

After only a few minutes of searching, a narrow tunnel led her to the next room - although technically it was more like a hall - and she overheard a small force of Imperials discussing the upcoming ambush.

She stayed in the shadows, drawing back and arrow and waiting patiently for the opportune moment. From her vantage point, high above the Imperials, she could see them hurrying around beneath the ledge, preparing for the ambush. She waited until one was out of sight of the others - and then let the arrow fly. He fell without a sound.

She used the same technique for a few others, but their absence soon became known to the remaining soldiers, altering them to a hidden intruder.

She unsheathed her swords and leapt down to meet them.

There were eight of them, but her initial __unrelenting force__ only left four standing. She easily moved around them, striking them down without breaking a sweat, and thanking the Gods that their mastery of the sword was nothing like the captain's. She had been lucky to survive that, and had she not been able to use the thu'um, probably wouldn't have done.

Her task complete, she called through to Galmar, letting him know the way ahead was clear. He thanked her with a curt nod of the head, before leading the Stormcloaks onwards through the crumbling ruins.

The deeper they travelled, the more the feeling of ice and decay grew until she could almost taste it on the air. She shivered convulsively, taking comfort in the familiar weight of her swords and made sure every step was careful and measured. Creeping roots overlapped across the cracked stones and more than one Stormcloak had been tripped up. Alaedra would have been one of them, had Kyra not been paying close attention to her and caught her around the waist to prevent her from falling.

Draugr also became more numerous as they continued travelling, and some of the greener Stormcloak's reactions to their first draugr - albeit a non-moving one - had Kyra smirking. Even Alaedra had a smile playing around her lips, although it was a little more sympathetic. It seemed she had seen draugr before.

It took them a while before they reached the Hall of Stories. Kyra and Alaedra talked quietly as they walked, only breaking apart to deal with any Imperials they came across, although Kyra wasn't prepared to admit she found comfort in Alaedra's soft tone. This place unsettled her more than other Nordic crypt she had visited, and neither the captain's dying words nor the confrontation between Juan and Revear had her feeling particularly comfortable. Especially as she knew she couldn't rely on the thu'um as much as she had been prepared to.

Galmar retrieved the claw from the corpse of an Imperial by the door, and after Kyra had showed him how to match up the symbols, slotted it in and twisted. The deep rumble of stone as the door sunk down would have been comforting had it not revealed yet another dark cavern - one with corpses scattered on the stairs and blood splatters dripping down. The undulating feeling of a word wall became clearer, thrumming in time with her heart. She trembled in anticipation, remembering the feeling of euphoria she had felt last time.

Kyra followed Galmar, avoiding the corpses and ascending the stairs. Alaedra stayed by her side, casting wild looks around her as though she expected something to leap out at her at any second. Kyra wanted to lay a hand on her shoulder and offer some silent comfort, but although her hand twitched, she didn't move and heaved a sigh instead. Best to keep her distance.


	14. Illusions of innocence

**I've realised that the eruption in Morrowind messes with my time-line...so let's pretend the eruption never happened.** **Artistic license and all that.**

* * *

This side of the Hall of Stories, there were no Imperials. There were, however, many draugr.

Kyra recalled a book she had read some time ago, written by Bernadette someone-or-other, about the draugr. It seemed that despite first appearances, the draugr retained much of their mental skills even after death, with many being able to communicate with each other. Although the author had managed to not been seen as a threat after several months, the draugr would viciously defend their place of burial to their death - again - and it took a lot of work to defeat them, especially when they came in groups. The force of Stormcloaks steadily fought their way through but they lost more than a few to the savagery of the draugr.

Kyra knew they were almost at their destination when they came across yet another large room, coffins dotting the perimeter of the wall and the pervasive feeling of ice and decay stronger than ever, almost smothering the rhythm of the word wall. An iron door was situated on the opposite side, but no amount of pushing and shoving would open it.

Galmar growled. "There must be some other way of opening this door. Split up and look around for a lever, a button, something like that."

Kyra and Alaedra trickled away, choosing to stay on the lower level with Ralof rather than head up the stairs. Kyra wandered over to the coffins, feeling as though she was being watched. She gently touched the hilt of her sword, stepping closer to the sheer surface and reached out to brush it with her fingertips.

A hand came down on her shoulder and she tensed, before realising it was Ralof. She shrugged off his hand and turned around.

"What?" she asked, trying to keep the bite out of her tone at being startled.

He frowned. "Just thought I'd let you know that some of the boys upstairs think they've found something. They're figuring it at the moment, but it looks like that door will open soon."

"Thank the Nine," Alaedra said. "I've more than had enough of the place."

"I think everyone has. Even Galmar," Ralof said.

Kyra quickly glanced at Galmar, but couldn't notice any difference - he looked as angry as usual. "How can you tell?"

He shrugged. "I've been in the Stormcloaks for quite a few years now. Galmar's a good commander and I've been around him enough to know when he's unsettled. Which doesn't happen very often at all, actually."

Kyra opened her mouth to reply, but a triumphant shout from upstairs stopped her.

"Sounds like they've figured it out," Ralof said, his stance relaxing as the door slid open.

And then all the coffins fell open.

Ralof cursed, whirling away to help one of his friends who had been standing next to a coffin.

Kyra leapt for Alaedra, pulling her back to narrowly avoid the slab of stone that crashed to the ground. Both of them pulled out their swords as a draugr wight stepped out, ice-blue eyes filled with rage.

"Aav dilon," it croaked, and Kyra realised with a shock she could understand what it was saying.

Alaedra threw herself towards the draugr while Kyra was still standing there, slicing at its shoulder and sending it stumbling back a few paces. She wrenched her sword out, and sent a look at Kyra, who started forwards too.

Kyra circled left, while Alaedra went right in pincer movement. Kyra sent a few strokes towards the draugr, occupying it while Alaedra attacked from the other side. Confused, the draugr tried to alternate between the two attacks, sending spikes of ice at them.

They managed to weave around them, one of them taking over the attack when the other struggled. Kyra couldn't use a shout with Alaedra standing on the other side of the draugr, but with both of them working together, it wasn't long before Alaedra scored a hit and the draugr wight tumbled to the ground.

Alaedra cautiously approached it, prodding it with her toe, and her look of comic apprehension was suddenly too much for Kyra. She burst out laughing, and once she started, she couldn't stop. She knew she sounded hysterical, but everything was just so __funny__. Revear's and Juan's tragic encounter, the frantic last words of the captain's, everything just coalesced into one.

She could see Alaedra's bemused expression through blurred vision but that only fueled her laughter, until she was gasping for breath, choking on her humour. As she struggled to get her breath back, she gradually quietened. With a few final laughs, almost indistinguishable from sobs, she stopped, sucking in a deep breath to clear her lungs and her thoughts.

"Are…are you okay?" Alaedra asked, looking as though she didn't know whether to join in on the laughter, or start praying to Sheogorath to restore Kyra's sanity. Not that Sheogorath would ever do that, of course.

She wiped a few tears from her eyes, the memory of bittersweet laughter still lilting in her head like a forgotten dream. But now that sense had returned to her, embarrassment was overpowering the humour. "I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from," she said, finally having caught her breath. " I…your face."

Alaedra looked offended. "You were laughing at my face?"

"Yes. I mean, no! Well, kind of. It started it off." She fumbled with her words. "You just looked so nervous when you were checking to see if the draugr was dead. And then everything else caught up…and it was so __funny__ that I had to laugh."

"What caught up?" Alaedra asked, stepping closer to Kyra and placing a tentative hand on Kyra's tightly folded arms. Had the faintly hysterical laughter not been floating in her head still, she would have stiffened from the unexpected contact. But that wasn't the case, and instead she had to stop herself from leaning into Alaedra's touch. She felt her breath calm.

Looking into Alaedra's eyes, she could see the concern that shimmered there, and she was struck by the sudden realisation of how much Alaedra seemed to care for her. And as much as her mind had told her to keep her distance and stay unattainable, her emotions had disobeyed. She cared for Alaedra too, and the knowledge made her heart beat faster, though from excitement or fear, she couldn't tell. After all, only a fine line separated the two emotions and the boundary was often unconsciously crossed.

"Just…everything. The captain's last words. Being Dovahkiin. And…" She hesitated, the laughter finally fading from her mind, before continuing. "And the encounter between Juan and Revear. You just have to laugh at some things because otherwise you'll cry."

"Will you?" Alaedra said quietly, keeping eye contact with Kyra, who suddenly found she couldn't look away from Alaedra's stormy grey eyes. "You have to laugh and smile, because if you don't, you think you'll be weak?"

Alaedra's soft tone caused her to shed a faint smile, even as the words themselves struck a nerve deep within her. It seemed Alaedra could read her like an open book - but she had known that from the beginning.

Alaedra continued, sharper now. "And what encounter? Is that what's made you feel like this?"

She nodded. "Well, that and everything else as I already said. Um…" Kyra trailed off, not looking forward to the upcoming conversation. Alaedra deserved to know what had happened between Revear and Juan, she deserved to know what she was getting herself into. But even as Alaedra was good at reading Kyra, Kyra was equally good at reading Alaedra. And she knew that despite the bitter environment and the bloody wars, Alaedra had maintained a largely optimistic outlook on life, viewing the world as black and white.

Kyra didn't want to shatter the illusion of innocence that Alaedra was grasping onto so tight her knuckles were white from the strain, and she didn't want to show Alaedra that things were rarely ever simply good or bad. But she had to.

She tried to hold the conversation off for a little longer, noticing that only half the Stormcloaks remained in the room with them. "Shouldn't we be carrying on?" she asked.

Alaedra shook her head. "The Jagged Crown is next door, apparently. There's some sort of powerful draugr in the depths of the cavern, but having any more soldiers than they already do will be more of a liability than an asset." She shrugged. "At least, that's what the soldiers were saying while you were in the middle of that laughing fit."

"Oh Gods." Kyra leant back against the wall, feeling her face burn. "Everyone must have seen me laughing. They'll never take me seriously now, dragonborn or not."

"Lucky for you, I'm good at casting discreet magic," Alaedra grinned. "An invention of mine actually, combining the silence spell that's common in Morrowind with a general ward. No one heard you."

Kyra gaped at her. "You…can invent spells?"

"I'm somewhat of a prodigy when it comes to most branches of magic. Or so they all say." Alaedra smirked, tossing her head and letting her heir whip around in an imitation of arrogance.

"And so modest too."

Alaedra let out a short laugh, but quietened, fixing her with a look. "And don't think I haven't noticed you changing the topic. What encounter?"

Kyra sighed, feeling the weight of the words settle in her mouth before allowing them to slip out.

She told Alaedra about Juan and Revear. She told her they had known each other, had been lovers on opposite sides of the war. She spoke about Juan's acceptance of Revear, the joy that had been apparent on his face and the hope that they could start again after being apart for so long. And finally, with a heaviness that almost forced her mouth shut, she told her about Revear's inevitable betrayal.

Her gaze had fallen to the floor as she spoke but now she forced herself to look at Alaedra, before wishing she hadn't.

The horror and pain within Alaedra's eyes seem to strike Kyra as a physical blow, her heart stuttering in her chest. She was responsible for that look.

Alaedra swallowed frantically, the colour seeping from her face like an ocean bled dry of life. Her mouth moved but nothing escaped, the words still trapped inside as she ran a hand over her face, dragging it through her hair viciously as though to wipe away what she had just heard.

Alaedra sucked in a desperate breath, finally finding words. "What…but that's…" She trailed off, shaking her head again and again. "No. No, you must have seen something different. That's the kind of thing an Imperial would do!"

The words exploded out of her in a jumble of emotion and Kyra hurriedly shushed her, wary of the looks they were getting from the remaining Stormcloaks. She placed firm hands on Alaedra's shoulders and guided her further away, away from earshot. Alaedra moved mechanically, and Kyra could tell she was absorbed by her thoughts, questioning everything she thought she knew.

They stepped into a small alcove, shelves of burial urns cluttered together over their heads. She bit her lip, wondering how best to approach this.

"Alaedra." Her name escaped almost as a sigh. "Look, I mean…we're on one side of this war. And we're here because we believe in our cause. The Imperials believe in their cause too. We're both fighting and fighting and trying to get out views across, even if the other refuses to accept them."

"What are you trying to say?" Alaedra asked quietly, still pale.

"That there isn't a good and a bad in this war. There is no right and wrong. Both sides have good points and bad, and neither is more justified than the other. The only thing that matters are the actions, not the ideology behind it.

"Everyone fighting in this war is mortal. Able to kill and be killed, and some are terrified of both. Some are scared of neither. Some are willing to commit atrocities in favour of their perceived cause, because they believe they are __right__ and it is __justified__."

"I feel like you're contradicting yourself," Alaedra said bluntly, although Kyra could see the pain of indecision lurking behind her eyes.

She gritted her teeth, closing her eyes briefly. " War doesn't determine who is right. It only determines who is left. And as much as I wish otherwise, things will never be simple in this war. Oblivion, things aren't simple in life."

"I'm aware of that."

"Are you?" Kyra questioned, making her tone soft as possible.

I-I don't know. I just…I want to know what the right thing to do is," Alaedra whispered, with such a look of despair that Kyra wanted nothing more than to give her a hug, to comfort her and protect her from the harsh reality that lay just beyond their sight.

And so she did.

She swallowed her fears and stepped forwards.

Alaedra looked briefly shocked, tears glistening in her eyes, before throwing herself into Kyra's arms with such force that Kyra was almost knocked backwards. She steadied herself, initially tense from the close contact, but she slowly relaxed. Alaedra's hair curled around her cheeks, the chestnut tresses revealing shades of red and gold within the waves and she smiled as peaceful silence descended on them. Her arms unconsciously tightened around Alaedra, and when Alaedra stepped back, quickly wiping her tears away, her arms felt empty and her body felt cold.

She shook off the feeling, concentrating in Alaedra. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. Talking about how she felt would have been the last thing Kyra would have wanted, had the positions been reversed, but she knew the best thing for Alaedra was to sort through her feelings with someone else. She would be that person for her.

Alaedra nodded jerkily. "I'm sorry, it's just a lot to get my head around. I…I thought the Stormcloaks were the good guys. Is everyone here really that bad?"

"No!" Kyra rushed to assure her. "No, they're not. But that's my point. There are good and bad people on every side of the war. At my execution attempt, there was a guy there. Hadvar. He was an Imperial too, but was willing to risk his life to keep a prisoner safe.

"The people on both sides are as complex as the aims in this war. You know all too well that the Stormcloaks want the ban on Talos worship lifted, and Skyrim no longer part of the Empire. But the shortcomings of this are obvious." She stopped, lifting an eyebrow at Alaedra, to try and get her to talk, to discover on her own that everything was flawed.

"I…the Stormcloaks hate foreigners. Even if Ulfric doesn't, his army do. And-and Skyrim no longer being part of the Empire?"

Kyra took over. "The Thalmor. The Thalmor are the masterminds in all this, not the Empire. I know I've only recently heard the details about the civil war, ever since I've arrived here, but think about it. A Skyrim separate from the Empire will leave it abandoned and weakened. The Thalmor can step in whenever they like and there's not an Oblivion-cursed thing we can do about it."

Alaedra sucked in a breath. "I…oh Gods, I hadn't even thought about that. Hasn't Ulfric realised that?"

"I hope he has. In fact, I'm pretty sure he has. He's clever. Which leads me to why I joined the Stormcloaks in the first place. Yes, a large portion of why I joined was to protect the Dunmer and carry out my promise to Ralof, but I had to think ahead. I'm almost certain that Ulfric plans to weaken Tullius's army but not deliver the killing blow, instead arranging…an agreement, of sorts. Tullius will be so desperate he'll agree. The Empire withdraw their influence from Skyrim, reversing the Talos ban, but relations are maintained. The trade and communication policies are largely kept the same. That way, Skyrim is as strong as it has ever been, if not stronger, if the Empire uphold their side of the bargain. Skyrim is an important trade partner for medical supplies and alcohol. The Empire won't let it slip easily." She shrugged, feigning nonchalance when really, a lot of thought had gone into this. "At least, that's what I think. Galmar has admitted as much to me when he first arrived at camp. Unofficially, of course."

Alaedra didn't say anything, instead just staring at Kyra without blinking.

"Alaedra?" She waved a hand in front of her face, noting that there wasn't any reaction. "Alaedra!"

Alaedra started, drawing in a breath and looking Kyra in the eyes for the first time this conversation. A crease appeared in her forehead as she furrowed her brow.

"That…makes a lot of sense actually. How in Oblivion did you come up with that on your own?"

"Just a lot of figuring and thinking ahead. The Gods know we had enough time while travelling here."

Alaedra hummed noncommittally.

"You okay?"

"Yeah…just thinking. It's a lot to take in all at once. I know there are two sides to every story but I didn't think it would apply to a situation like this. I thought it would be clear-cut, that I was fighting on the right side of this war and nothing could persuade me otherwise."

"Always remember that then. There are two sides to every story. Even if you walk away from this disregarding everything I've said, remember that there are __always__ two sides to every story," Kyra said.

Alaedra nodded, another tear trickling down her cheek. Before Kyra could stop herself, she had reached out a hand and gently wiped the tear away, wishing she could wipe the pain away just as easily. Her hand lingered for a heartbeat before she jerked it away, feeling a blush spread over her cheeks.

"Are you okay to head back?" Kyra asked, and offered an encouraging smile when Alaedra straightened her shoulders and nodded.

They retraced their steps and emerged into the room, only to see the remaining soldiers slowly filing into the next room.

"They must have disposed of the draugr and taken the crown," she muttered to Alaedra, who leaned in closer to listen. "There's generally a short-cut that takes us back to the entrance."

Alaedra walked forwards, dodging in front of some of the soldiers, but Kyra caught her arm and pulled her back, letting the rest of the soldiers go in front. Alaedra sent a confused look at her.

"What are you doing?"

"There's a word wall through there," Kyra explained quietly. "I can feel it. I'd rather not have an audience for when I absorb the word. They keep on casting me enough looks as is it, and they've barely seen a demonstration yet. Hang on…aannd…now we can go in."

Alaedra cast her a fondly exasperated look before darting through the doorway. Kyra followed, the rhythm thumping in her chest as she entered.

A throne lay directly opposite them, a draugr overlord lying slumped a few feet away from it. Splatters of blood surrounding the body was the only evidence of the battle the Stormcloaks had been confronted with. A little further away, two less powerful draugr had also succumbed to the Stormcloaks and were piled almost on top of one another, their weapons lying useless next to them.

Her feet moving of their own accord, she brushed past Alaedra and weaved around the throne, her gaze fixed on the towering wall that lay just beyond. She absentmindedly noticed Alaedra closely following her, but her attention was focused on the wall and the undulating energy was emanating from it, swirling around her and above her and __in__ her. She could feel her blood sing in response.

She took an extra step, and a section of the wall started glowing, beckoning her closer. The glow formed itself into a word, the harsh lines and jagged script easily recognisable as the Dovah-Zul.

She blinked, and the glow suddenly became more intense as the word seared itself onto her retina, resonating deep within her. She gasped, feeling the euphoria rush though her like liquid fire, filling her veins with power.

Letting loose a laugh, she turned to Alaedra, who was watching with evident curiosity. Her eyesight sharper and focused, she looked into Alaedra's eyes, noticing for the first time the shades of colour that lay hidden from the casual observer. A faint tinge of purple ringed her iris and she found herself transfixed by the sight, even as the euphoria seemed to become even more potent.

She took a step forwards, the feeling prompting her to reach out and tuck a loose strand of hair behind Alaedra's ear. Alaedra blushed, her breath catching, but didn't move back.

"Your eyes…" Kyra said, her voice sounding huskier than usual. "They're beautiful."

"I...I-" Alaedra stuttered, biting her lip. "Thank you?" She said it as a question, her tone lilting upwards as she finished the sentence, and something akin to a purr began in Kyra's throat.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the euphoric feeling began to seep away, slowly at first and then quicker. Kyra sagged, almost unable to comprehend a lack of the feeling, before catching Alaedra's eye. Her actions whilst under the influence of the euphoria rushed into her and she reeled back, eyes wide.

"Fireblood," she swore. "I'm so sorry. I…the word walls kinda loosen my inhibitions. It's just…what happens. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," she stuttered, afraid she had offended Alaedra in some way.

"You didn't mean it?" Alaedra asked. "So my eyes aren't beautiful?"

"Wha…no! I mean, yes, they are," she managed to gasp out, cursing her inability to speak smoothly around Alaedra. Where had her natural eloquence run off to? "I mean, they are beautiful. Yes, very beautiful." She nodded vigorously, before stopping abruptly when Alaedra started giggling.

"Gods, I'm just messing with you," Alaedra chuckled. "I know what you mean. But your face…" She descended into laughter again.

Kyra stood patiently, her lips twitching as she tried not to submit. She knew, like her earlier laughter, that Alaedra's laughter was largely the product of stress. But it was infectious, the pure humour ringing through the room and Kyra couldn't stop herself from joining in.

As they started to control their laughter, they caught each others eyes and started giggling again, collapsing against the now-dormant word wall as their knees shook, barely able to remember what was so funny in the first place.

"Ah...stop! My stomach." Alaedra groaned, her eyes alight and sparkling.

With a few final chuckles, Kyra dwindled to a halt, feeling lighter than she had all day. Laughter really was the best medicine. "I can't remember the last time I laughed so much in the space of just a few minutes," she smiled.

"Me neither." Alaedra shook her head. "Anyway, it looks like everyone has left us behind, thanks to you," she said, but the teasing was evident in her tone.

Kyra gasped in mock indignation. "How dare you! I'll have you know that I am Kyra Nightingale, Dovahkiin, destined destroyer of Alduin and guardian of Morrowind."

"Oh, and don't forget the Champion Boaster of Skyrim either."

"How could I forget?" she grinned, glad she could joke about this with Alaedra.

"Anyway, we're even further behind now," Alaedra added.

"Don't worry about it, they'll be travelling slowly. Besides, they'll wait outside of the ruins anyway, to gather everything together. Hopefully."

"You fill me with such confidence." Alaedra rolled her eyes and started walking, seeing a small passage carved into the side of the wall.

They ducked inside, Alaedra in front and Kyra just behind. She accidentally stepped on Alaedra's heel a few times before deciding Alaedra's threats may not be purely jokes and hung back a little.

"So what word was that then?" Alaedra asked as they walked, her voice echoing slightly.

"It was __klo.__ Although it literally means sand in the Dovah-Zul, when used as a shout, it'll slow time."

"Slow time? No way…Show me," Alaedra demanded as they emerged into the cavern they had first entered Korvanjund into. There weren't any Stormcloaks in there, but she could hear muffled voices from outside.

She stepped away from Alaedra a little, finding __klo__ and adding the power of the thu'um to it. And then she spoke.

 _"_ _ _Klo."__

It wasn't a dramatic and powerful force that emanated from her mouth. Instead, it slipped out effortlessly, calming herself and the air around her. She looked at Alaedra, noticing that the gradual rise of her chest as she breathed in was slowed.

She stepped forwards, feeling the air swirl motionlessly, lazily, as though it lacked the energy to obey the laws of nature. Circling Alaedra, she could appreciate the feeling of calmness that settled upon her, before time gradually started to speed up, reverting to its usual motion.

Alaedra whirled around to meet her, eyes wide and face filled with wonder. "Gods, you were moving so fast! I could barely see you."

She shook her head, thinking. "No, you were just moving slowly. This shout must…leech the energy from its surroundings, I guess, slowing everything in a certain radius. Huh. That's pretty useful. It's much better than unrelenting force."

"How come?"

"Unrelenting force is powerful. Very powerful. All that raw energy, filled with motion and life. When all that has to be channeled along my throat, it damages the muscles. I have the soul of a Dov, as you know, but my skin is still as weak as a human's. But this shout…it's more gentle. Relaxed. I'll be able to use this much more before my throat hurts."

"Good. That's…good." Alaedra didn't seem to know what to say.

Kyra carried on talking, possibilities whirling in her mind. "Now that I have this basis, I can add __tiir__ to it, to get it to last twice as long. Yes, that'll be good. Good for combat, although I __do__ need more aggressive shouts. I realised too late that the Greybeards only stayed with passive shouts, and now that I have the whole Dovah-Zul to use, I can create more shouts. Experiment with them." She paused, looking at Alaedra. "Would you…maybe want to help me with that?"

Alaedra started. "How could I possibly help you with the shouts? I can't use the thu'um."

"No, but you have ideas. Lots of them. If you want, you could help me come up with the effects of some of the shouts, and help me with the words to craft it. You never know, we may stumble across a pure combination. What do you reckon?"

A soft smile crept over Alaedra's face, pure in its intensity. "Yes. I'd love to help you, Kyra."


	15. A fading phantom

The wind swept through the streets of Windhelm, tossing brittle leaves back and forth as it ruthlessly intruded any potential shelter before rushing over the towering walls. It continued onto the icy landscape that surrounded the city, carrying the expectation of snow storms. Trees creaked in sympathy as the piercing ferocity of the wind promised to freeze anything that moved.

Kyra and Alaedra huddled behind a large tree, shivering. Kyra's resilience to the cold was now on par with Alaedra's, but the glacial wind didn't seem to care. Iizaak was playing in the snow a few metres away, unaffected. Kyra envied him.

"I think the first shout you need to come up with is something to stop the cold," Alaedra said, her words almost indistinguishable from each other as her teeth chattered. "Then we can go through the list."

"You have a list?"

"Of course. I'm a little more prepared than you are." Alaedra smiled, her lips tinged blue.

Kyra nodded. "So. Stopping the cold. The most obvious words to use would be shield and cold, I guess." Kyra paused. She had already learned the word for shield, but not for cold. Her mind rippled, the Dovah word for cold becoming firm in her mind.

"This is where it gets a little confusing," she continued. "The Dovah word for shield is __spaan__ and the word for cold is __krah__." She was careful not to imbue the words with the thu'um. "But in this case, the order matters."

Alaedra looked confused.

"If I say krah spaan, that means cold shield. That __won't__ protect us from the cold, but will probably have the effect of something akin to an barrier made of ice. However, if I say shield cold, it __will__ shield us from the cold. Do you see?"

Alaedra smiled, eyes sparkling with endless curiosity. She had asked Kyra to try and teach her the basics of the Dovah-Zul, and Kyra willingly obliged, eager to share her knowledge with Alaedra. "Can you try it out then? I'm going to freeze to death if I stay out here for any longer."

Kyra centered her mind, wishing she could use three words to increase the effect, but knew the Greybeards were correct when they told her not to try it without supervision. But as it was, two words were difficult enough. She needed to understand the full meaning of both the words. She tossed them around in her head, looking at the different ways they could be interpreted, the various aspects of them, before she knew them inside out.

" _ _Spaan krah."__

Kyra felt the effects instantly and stopped shivering, her body relaxing. She could still feel the touch of the iciness against her skin, but it didn't bother her. Next to her, Alaedra's teeth stopped chattering and she looked relieved.

"Let's create some space then," Alaedra said. "If you're going to try out some offensive shouts, we can't stay huddled behind this tree, even as lovely a tree as this."

Kyra smirked, standing from her crouch. She braced herself for the iciness as she walked a few paces away, wary that the shout might only extend to a certain perimeter, but the effects didn't lessen. Alaedra joined her, footsteps crunching in the freshly fallen snow.

"Before we start properly, I want to try something out," Kyra said. "I got this idea from the Greybeards, and although I can't remember all the words - not that I could use all three anyway - I've created a variation of it."

"And what's ' _ _it'__?"

"This," Kyra smirked.

She had perfected the meaning last night, so she didn't need to put any thought into it, as she opened her mouth and __shouted__.

 _"_ _ _Fiik sah!"__

The air in front of her shimmered, before a ghostly figure coalesced, stepping out of the icy air. Largely humanoid in shape, it was featureless and opaque, swaying gently as it stood on the ground. Iizaak approached, his fur standing on end. He sniffed it, then batted it with a paw. Satisfied it wasn't a threat, he wandered away, pouncing playfully in the snow and burying his face in it.

"What…is it?" Alaedra repeated, her inflection slightly altered now.

"It's an apparition, a mirror phantom. I need to test the more offensive shouts on something and see their effects, and this is the easiest way without being arrested."

"Is it alive?" Alaedra's tone was hushed as she stared at the phantom.

"It's no more alive than your reflection when you look in a mirror. It just doesn't need a mirror to appear, is all. Anyway, what shouts did you come up with?"

Alaedra shook herself, pulling a creased piece of parchment from her pocket. As she unfolded it, Kyra could see scrawled lines of writing, several sections crossed out and written over. She smiled at how much thought and time Alaedra had put into this. She knew Alaedra wanted to feel part of it, wanted to help her out, and it was time Kyra started to put some of her insecurities to rest by letting her help.

"Okay," Alaedra said, suddenly businesslike. "I was thinking of a more accurate offensive shout. Unrelenting force is good and all, but it doesn't discriminate between enemies and friends, which won't help on the battlefield. So what about something like a whip of fire? I don't quite know how you'd control it though, and if it would vanish after just one hit."

Kyra hummed in thought, tilting her head to the left. "That has a lot of potential actually. I'd probably use the words fire and cut - there isn't a word for whip in the Dovah-Zul and this is as close as I'll get. Now, hush for a minute. This may take me a while to grasp."

Alaedra nodded, quietening. Kyra furrowed her brow, trying to put the two words into a complete shout. But after two minutes of standing there, she still wasn't able to grasp it. She let out an annoyed huff, and glared at Alaedra when she chuckled. She seated herself on a partially buried rock and focused her mind, trying a different way of looking at the combination. It clicked.

She leapt up in excitement, eager to try out the new shout, and faced the phantom.

" _ _Yol vey!__ "

A sinuous trail of liquid fire formed in the air, twisting and coiling. She paused, waiting for it to attack the phantom, but it just floated, spiraling around like an overly inquisitive nix-hound.

"Any ideas why it isn't doing anything?" Alaedra asked by her side.

She growled in frustration. "No. It should attack the phantom. The Nine curse you, attack it!" she snarled, picturing the fire slicing into the phantom.

And to her shock, it did.

The fire sharpened, becoming a dazzling spear and flew at the phantom, the tip piercing it. The phantom wavered and faded away, and the fire relaxed its form, becoming a spiraling mass of gentle fire above their head once more.

"So…I guess it reads intent," Kyra said. "And it looks like it won't fade after just one attack. Hang on…"

Even as she said those words, the fire started to dwindle away, until all that was left was a haze of shimmering air, like a heatwave on a particularly hot day. And then even that vanished.

"Maybe it only lasts for a certain amount of time?" Alaedra asked. "That would make sense. Should we continue? I've got loads more shouts for you to try."

Kyra nodded, shouting again to make the phantom reappear. "What's next?"

"Let's revert to basics for a minute. How about something simple, like unrelenting force, but with the added effect of frost or something? Not as accurate as the fire whip, but good when surrounded by enemies."

"That would require the words force and ice, both of which I already know." She smiled, finding that combining them together was comparatively easy to the previous ones.

" _ _Iiz fus__!"

A channel of frost shot from her mouth, crystallizing in the air as it travelled towards the phantom. It connected with the ghostly figure, which froze, tendrils of ice creeping across before it shattered into frozen fractals.

"Success." She punched the air in triumph, pleased with her progress. "Right, what should I try now?"

"Something that will be __very__ useful. Healing."

"I…I'm surprised I hadn't thought of that sooner - and that the Greybeards didn't teach me. But anyway. The dragons don't have an actual word for heal, the closest being health. But I could go for a different combination of bind and wound, which would be __gron__ and __ahraan__."

She focused on them, combining them together until they floated in her head, waiting to be used. "Unless one of us particularly wants to injure ourselves, I'll wait until I use it."

"Good thinking." Alaedra looked hesitant.

"What?"

"There…was an idea for a shout I tossed around, but I don't know. It's a little risky if it fails. In fact, it's downright suicidal if the shout fails."

"Okay...Just tell me what it is first."

"Flying."

Kyra straightened, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face. She'd always wanted to fly when she was younger, and had loved the idea of being able to soar far above everything else, untouchable, invincible. Still did, in fact. And now that the possibility was hovering in front of her…

"Yes," she said, eagerness evident in her tone. "I want to do it. And I'll stay close to the ground. That way, if it fails, I won't have far to fall. Should I try it?"

Alaedra hesitated, but eventually nodded, looking exasperated.

Once more, she combined the meanings in her head, spending a while on this particular shout, making sure it was __just__ right.

And then she was ready.

 _"_ _ _Gron bo!"__

Her stomach lurched. In fact, her whole body lurched. Kyra swallowed, before gently jumping into the air a little, and she didn't fall back to the ground again. Instead, she rose, slowly at first, and then faster. She laughed, pure exhilaration thrumming through her, her body weightless in the sky.

Curious to see how much control she had, she stopped, hovering in mid-air, and then descended slowly again, wary of how quickly the shout would wear off. And it was just as well she did.

Kyra could feel her control starting to wane, her body becoming heavier. She accelerated towards the ground, and as the shout faded away completely, dropped lightly to the ground. Alaedra rushed over.

"Are you okay? I told you not to go so high!"

"Relax, I'm fine now. I guess this shout doesn't last for a long time." She sighed, glad she had been able to experience at least some time in the air but annoyed it had been for only a few seconds. She just hoped the Greybeards would contact her soon, so she could learn three-word shouts, and get it to last for longer.

"Hey, don't look so upset. This next shout might cheer you up."

"What is it?"

"The Greybeards told you what some of the known shouts are, right? They don't know what the words themselves are, but they know the effects. I've got some of the effects written down here, so we could try and find a combination for them, even if it isn't a pure one. So, what about one that lets you become ethereal?"

Interest piqued, Kyra instantly started forming words in her head, speaking as she did. "So, something like fade would be needed, and maybe I could reuse the word for phantom in it as well. Yes, that should work. Again, the order is important."

Once more, it took her a while to understand the meaning, but she soon grasped it.

" _ _Feim sah."__

Like the shout for __slow time__ , it escaped gently, soothing her throat. But it didn't seem to have an effect - she felt exactly the same, only a little colder. Maybe her shout to keep the iciness at bay was starting to fade. But looking at Alaedra, she didn't seem to be cold, instead staring at Kyra, her eyes wide. Kyra was about to ask why the most recent shout it hadn't worked, when she looked down at herself.

Shock prickled her heart. Kyra was as transparent as the phantom, her skin ghostly and see-through. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she focused on what needed to be done.

"Come here," she said to Alaedra, and only just managed to contain her shock when she heard how her voice sounded. It was dry and weak, sounding half-dead, like she was barely hanging onto life. And now that she knew the shout had worked, she could __feel__ it. Coldness was creeping over her body, leeching it of warmth and life, and the feeling only grew. She decided she didn't like this shout very much.

Alaedra stopped in front of her, her face calm, but Kyra could see how unsettled she was underneath it.

"Now, I need you to swing your sword at me."

Alaedra gaped. "What? No way."

"We need to know if this shout has worked. For all we know, it may only give me the appearance of a phantom, with none of the benefits. I'd rather find out now than on the battlefield. Maybe don't swing your sword at me then, but try and cut my hand. And hurry. Being in this form feels horrible." She shivered, tendrils of numbness starting to crawl across her skin.

Alaedra looked nervous, but drew her sword, placing it just above Kyra's hand. She brought it gently down, and then gasped when her sword sunk through Kyra's flesh without leaving a mark.

Kyra smiled in relief, glad that it had worked, and eager to stop being a phantom. There was only one problem.

She didn't know how to reverse a shout.

All of her shouts had run out on their own and she hadn't needed to do anything, but this shout seemed all too eager to keep her in its grasp. She started to panic as the coldness became even more penetrating, seeping into her blood.

"What's wrong?" Alaedra asked, seeing the worry on her face.

"T-the shout isn't fading. I can't stay like this for much longer. Xuth, I'm so __cold,__ " she whispered, instinctively falling back on the Argonian curse.

Alaedra sucked in a breath. "Okay…okay, that's fine. You just, um…create a new shout! One that'll revert you to your normal body."

Her body started trembling but she could barely feel it. Kyra tried to focus, to sharpen her mind. She chose to use the Dov word for true, and for body. That should change her back.

She slowly began to form the words in her mind, joining them together and looking at their meanings. Thankfully, the nature wasn't hard to grasp and it only took a few moments before it was fully formed.

But before she could utter them, the cold sunk further into her, deeper than it had even done, sending knives of ice through her body. She staggered from the shock and the iciness that was overwhelming her. Alaedra darted forwards to catch her, instincts taking over, but she just dove straight through Kyra, who barely noticed.

She sunk to the floor, arms tightly wrapped around her body as though she could keep the warmth inside, but to no avail. Iizaak padded up to her, trying to butt his head against her transparent shoulder. When he couldn't, he sat back in his hunches, gently whining.

Alaedra kneeled down beside her, this time making no effort to disguise the fear in her features. "Kyra, just use the shout. Now! Oblivion, you're fading even more."

And she was right. Kyra could barely see the outline of her hand now, almost indistinguishable from the snow covered ground. But even as she noticed, her panic faded as her mind became somehow…indistinct. She could barely form a thought as she just kneeled there, looking at Alaedra.

Alaedra was choking back tears now, still pleading. "Kyra, please. Please, just reverse this. I…I can't…" A sob tore itself from her mouth.

Kyra watched dispassionately, feeling fleeing her body. There was an endless, endless space above her and in front of her and behind her, and it seemed any whisper of wind would send her tumbling into the shallow abyss.

A silence clung to the air, hating sound, hating the careless motion of humanity.

Time thundered, the roar of time and the roar of her blood becoming one and the same, tangled together, lost together. Time trickled like a frigid mountain stream. Time stood still.

Her breath slowed, becoming gradual, almost tiresome as her heart slowed. Lethargic, heavy.

Empty.

Floating…

And then suddenly her body was on fire as she gasped, heaving a breath, her lungs aching for oxygen. She choked, coughing again and again, almost toppling over but managing to place a hand on the ground to keep her steady.

A hand…

Kyra stared at her fully-formed hand, and she'd never seen anything quite so wondrous. Blood rushed through her veins and her fingers gently curled, obeying her command instantly. She gasped and looked up just in time to see Alaedra throw herself into her arms.

The feeling of Alaedra's warmth seeping into her body was almost enough to make her cry. She held onto her as tight as she could, reveling in the feeling of being able to touch Alaedra. She trembled, still able to sense a phantom of the iciness within her, but she brushed that aside, focusing on the feel of Alaedra in her arms.

She eventually drew back from Alaedra after an immeasurable amount of time, and sent a shaky smile at her. Alaedra returned it, and then punched Kyra on the shoulder.

"Don't you __ever__ do that to me again," she growled, each word punctuated by a punch. Kyra didn't care - she was just glad she could feel pain again. "Promise me."

"I promise," she said, and she'd never meant anything as strongly in her life. "But at least this shows us that some combinations aren't fool-proof. I suggest we stay away from that one for now."

Alaedra hurriedly agreed. "But what happened at the end? Why did you suddenly revert back to normal? I know you didn't shout."

"I...don't know," she admitted. "I guess it just wore off. Most shouts last for a certain time, and they're all different. I mean, the phantom seemed to last for ages."

"Maybe we should take a break from this for now," Alaedra suggested. "Besides, Ulfric wants to speak with you later today, remember? He probably wants to award you the rank of captain."

She sighed. "You're right. We'd better head back to the inn - he wanted to see me at six."

Kyra said goodbye to Iizaak, who seemed more affectionate than normal, and didn't leave their side until the walls of Windhelm came into sight. The sight of her fading must have unsettled him - Gods, it had unsettled her.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Alaedra said as they walked the bridge over to the gates of Windhelm.

"What about?" Kyra asked slowly, cautiously.

"Well, I've heard both Divayn and Senethys call you Nightingale when we've been at the inn. It seemed to be more of a title than a surname. And when we were in Korvanjund last week, after the word wall, you joked that you were the guardian of Morrowind. I mean…what's that about?"

Kyra felt cold shudders run through her, a memory brushing against her mind. It demanded entrance but she forced it away, concentrating on her breathing and keeping even steps. Alaedra was still waiting for an answer.

"When I left Skyrim, I travelled around quite a bit. Went to see lots of different places. I saw Elsweyr, Hammerfel, Black Marsh. Morrowind. When I was there, I…did some stuff for the Dunmer. Helped them out. They started calling me Nightingale, as a token of respect, I guess. They recognised my eyes..." Her words caught in her mouth and she stopped abruptly, not daring to elaborate any further.

"What did you do for them?" Alaedra asked, but she just shook her head. Alaedra seemed to pick up on her hesitation and dropped the subject, much to Kyra's relief, and they walked back in silence.

Divayn was there to greet them as they entered the inn, polishing a few dusty ale mugs out of habit, while Virend was in his usual position in the far corner, crouched irritably over his ale. The sight seemed somehow dream-like, the silence only broken by vague words, melancholia seeping from every pore. She made an effort to plaster a smile on her face, promising herself that when she went to see Ulfric, she'd inquire about the state of the Dunmer's living quarters.

Alaedra went up to Divayn, ordering two strong ales and handing over some coins. Kyra knew she'd wanted to give Divayn extra, but experience had told them both that Divayn wasn't going to accept charity, no matter who it was from.

Kyra grabbed one of the ales and started drinking, downing almost half the mug before she set it down with a contented sigh. She saw Divayn looking at her and raised an eyebrow.

"What? I really needed that. This morning has been...weird."

"That's one word for it," Alaedra muttered to Divayn, her face buried in her mug. "If you include a living reflection, Kyra flying, and then almost fading away from existence as just a little weird, that is."

Kyra chuckled but it sounded false. Even the thought of fading caused another involuntary shiver, almost a convulsion. Alaedra must have noticed, because she drained the rest of her ale and turned to her.

"Should we head upstairs? You're probably as tired as I am and you don't have to meet Ulfric for quite a few hours."

Kyra, seeing the offer for what is was, quickly nodded. She drained the rest of her ale, promising herself another one later tonight, and headed upstairs with Alaedra.

"Thanks," she murmured to Alaedra as they reached their room. "I just couldn't really deal with interacting with anyone, even Divayn. The fading shook me more than I had realised."

"That's what I thought," Alaedra said, and then paused, a smile forming on her face. "You don't seem to mind talking with me."

She frowned. "What?"

"You just said you weren't in the mood for interacting with people. But you seem happy to talk with me."

"I…yeah. I guess you're the exception." She offered a tentative smile and Alaedra returned it ten-fold.

"You know what you need?" Alaedra said suddenly. "A mug of cocoa. The best thing in the world for shock."

"I'm not in shock," Kyra protested, but that didn't stop Alaedra from skipping down the stairs and emerging a few minutes later with two mugs of steaming cocoa cradled between her hands. She offered the larger one to Kyra, who accepted it gratefully. She took a sip, and didn't realise how cold she had been until she no longer was.

They sat in companionable silence, sipping their cocoa, their back against the bed. Kyra slowly relaxed, a content sigh escaping her lips, and then suddenly realised her and Alaedra were sitting so close that their shoulders were brushing against each other. That alone wasn't shock-worthy, but the fact she hadn't even noticed until now…it had just felt so natural.

She knew she should keep Alaedra at a distance - close enough to see but not to touch. But she didn't want to listen to common sense.

When she was sure Alaedra wasn't paying attention to her, she sniffed the air, wary of any deceit or lies she might find clinging like oil to Alaedra. Old habits die hard, after all.

But a clean, peaceful scent wafted towards her instead - Alaedra smelt of snow and silver and pine forests. She chose to listen to her heart and her instincts, and when Alaedra smiled at her, she smiled back.


	16. Disarming smiles

Kyra groaned, stumbling up the steps of the inn and throwing herself face-first onto her bed, groaning again as she did. That had taken a __lot__ longer than she'd expected.

An amused cough sounded to her right, and she cracked upon an eye to see Alaedra faintly smirking at her, a book open and forgotten about on her lap.

"How was the meeting with Ulfric and the captains?" Alaedra asked, looking amused.

" _ _Tedious__ ," Kyra sighed, finally sitting upright in bed. "I thought it'd be new and interesting, but after the first five minutes, we were talking about things like the management of water systems and the new composition of metal in the architecture. Sure, there was some battle strategies thrown in, which I could contribute to, but the rest? Just no."

"So did Ulfric award you captain or not?"

"Yes - unofficially. Apparently there's to be a proper parade and everything tomorrow where my rank can be officially announced."

"So what actually happened in the meeting, aside from discussions about the day-to-day running of Windhelm?" Alaedra asked, curious, and walked over to join Kyra sitting on her bed. She slid up to make room.

"Meeting the other captains was pretty interesting. There weren't many of us - there needs to be one captain at each mobile camp around Skyrim, and a few more were carrying out extra missions. Most of them were fairly decent people though, Ulfric has good taste for appointing people with a sense of responsibility. And now that I'm captain, I get responsibilities too."

"Responsibilities?" Alaedra echoed.

She hummed. "Each captain is in charge of a certain part of managing the army. I'm in charge of night patrols, which could be worse, as I only have to take one myself every other week. I have to draw up the time-table though, and make sure everyone turns up when they're supposed to. Oh! That reminds me. We've both been pretty lucky so far - we haven't had any duties to carry out. But that's only because quite a few captains died on a mission a few days before we signed up as Stormcloaks, and it's been frantic trying to reassign everything. So we'll actually have things to do during the day now."

Alaedra frowned. "I was enjoying spending time with you. What sort of things are we expected to do?"

Kyra smiled at her words. "Oh, you'll still see me - I have a bit of influence as captain and can make sure we get assigned the same tasks. Besides, duties will only ever be in the morning or afternoon, not both. We'll still have free time. And as for what we'll be doing - well, that depends. Taking watches, practicing, sharpening swords, organising defenses, anything really."

"Sounds fun," Alaedra said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. "But I guess it could be worse. It'd be even better if we had the duties with Ralof. Knowing him, he'd make the time fly by."

"I'll see what I can organise," Kyra smirked, knowing that she had already made sure Ralof shared the majority of duties with them. She had grown used to his humour over the past few weeks, and was more comfortable with finally admitting he was a good friend.

"Did you ask Ulfric about the Dunmer and their living conditions?" Alaedra asked.

"Yes, but he wasn't very forth-coming. I believe him when he says that he'll start the preparations soon with my backing, but still. He was only a little more helpful when I asked him about the disappearances, and __that__ directly affects him."

"What disappearances?"

"Fireblood, didn't I tell you? Well, you know I got captured because the Imperials thought I was part of the Stormcloak army? From memory, there were __at least__ twenty soldiers who were part of the procession. But at the execution, there were only five. The Imperials went to great lengths to ensure that most of the Stormcloaks weren't killed. It's been bugging me ever since, and I asked Ulfric if he'd look into it."

Alaedra nodded, her brow furrowed. "I guess they were just taken for interrogation purposes?"

"That's what I first assumed. But if they had captured Ulfric, why would they need to interrogate any more Stormcloaks? If Alduin hadn't arrived, Ulfric's death would have spelled the end of the war. No, it doesn't quite add up."

"There's nothing you can do about it," Alaedra said, leaning closer to Kyra. "You should really stop worrying about being responsible for everything. You __are__ allowed to relax as well."

She sighed. "I know. I __do__ know. But I was there when the other Stormcloaks were knocked unconscious and vanished off the face of Nirn. I was involved."

Alaedra suddenly looked at her, a hint of a question in her eyes. "I know something that'll help you relax. But I understand if you feel uncomfortable with it or don't want me to do it or you just want-"

"Alaedra," she cut her off with a faint smile. "Just tell me."

"Well, a massage always helped me to relax," Alaedra began, biting her lip. "But you always seemed so adverse to touch. I know you've loosened up a lot more this past week or so, I just wasn't sure if…" she trailed off, ducking her head in embarrassment.

Kyra, hesitated, wondering what to say. "I…I'm not adverse to touch. I'm just scared of what it could mean." She carried on talking before Alaedra had the chance to question her. "But you're right, I have gotten more used to you. I would appreciate that massage, if you're still willing to offer it." She ended with a hopeful smile, her heart strumming.

Alaedra looked ecstatic, jumping off the bed and turning to Kyra. "Lay down," she said, her tone brooking no space for argument.

Kyra swallowed, then lay face-down on the bed, her arms curled above her head. She waited for Alaedra to do something, but there was only silence. Kyra was about to ask what she was waiting for, when she felt the bed lower beside her, presumably as Alaedra sat down on it. But then Alaedra moved and Kyra's breath stuttered as she felt a familiar weight straddling her thighs, and gentle hands come into contact with her back.

Then the hands started __moving__ , pressing harder on some muscles, teasing out the tense knots, and she couldn't contain a groan of satisfaction. The hands stilled and she felt herself blush, before they resumed their soothing rhythm, gently stroking up and down Kyra's back.

The sinfully skilled hands moved their way towards her shoulders, making her moan again before she clamped her mouth shut. Alaedra rubbed small circles into her skin, before pressing firmer again, and Kyra felt the tension seep out of her, her muscles relaxing.

Alaedra paused briefly over her biceps before deciding they didn't need much attention, and then returned to her back, steadily moving lower. Kyra sucked in a startled breath as Alaedra's hands went lower and oh Gods, was she-

Alaedra's hands moved from her lower back to her calf muscles as her weight shifted backwards, although her hands didn't pause in the gentle massage, and Kyra was simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

Another contented sigh escaped her mouth as Alaedra continued her ministrations and she felt herself sink deeper into the mattress, her eyelids starting to feel heavy. The meeting with the other captain's had been long-winded and tedious and Alaedra's hands were so gentle and soft that she couldn't stop her eyelids from fluttering shut, her body finally relaxing completely.

She woke with a start as Alaedra climbed off the bed. She must only have fallen asleep for a few minutes, but her body now felt loose, the lack of tension obvious to her. Kyra sat up, a half-yawn flowing out of her mouth before she could stop it. Alaedra sent her an amused smile.

"Did I send you to sleep?"

"Yes," Kyra admitted. "Xuth, where did you learn to massage like that? That felt __amazing__."

"I'm glad you thought so," Alaedra said. "My grandma was a healer and taught me the most sensitive parts of the body."

"You certainly put that knowledge to good use. I can't remember the last time my body felt this light. Thank you," she said sincerely. "I really needed that."

"I know you did," Alaedra said impishly. "That's why I offered."

Kyra tilted her head to the side, wondering at the spark of __something__ in Alaedra's eyes, before shaking her head. "Anyway, we'd probably better go to bed soon. We've got duties at dawn tomorrow, and my announcement as captain is at midday."

Alaedra pulled a face. "Do you know what we'll be doing tomorrow?"

"For our duties? Ulfric mentioned he was building some new barracks for the influx of volunteers they've had recently. He's perfectly fine with us two finding our own accommodation, but the rest of the new Stormcloaks are expecting somewhere to stay. I guess we'll be organising the building materials, maybe helping out with some of the simpler parts of building."

"And we'll be together, right?"

"Of course we'll be together," she replied.

* * *

Kyra shifted, restless. She was standing at the head of a hall - not the throne room (this particular hall seemed dedicated to announcements such as these) - and listening to Ulfric praise his Stormcloaks for their continued dedication and commitment to the cause. Not all the Stormcloaks could fit into the hall, even if the size of it was immense, and so only the captains and lieutenants, with a few other high-ranking soldiers, were listening to Ulfric. They stood at parade-rest, stances alert, and Kyra nodded in approval. Ulfric knew how to train his soldiers.

Ulfric wrapped up his speech and turned to Kyra, Galmar by his side. He had already told her what to expect and what to say - this was only a formality to officially recognise her as captain. She repeated ' _ _the captain's oath'__ after him, a fist placed against her shoulder that reminded her of the Imperial's captain last gesture of honour.

The long-winded oath finished, she paced slowly after Ulfric as per the Stormcloak's tradition, and turned around when Ulfric picked up a midnight-blue cloak that would recognise her as captain. It rippled as he held in in his hands, the ends gently trailing on the floor, a small band of gold stark against the edge of the cloak. The hem was adorned with small swirls of silver decorations - minimalistic yet elegant.

It was a different design to the other captain's cloaks. Ulfric had spoken to her about this as well before the ceremony, and Ulfric had decided that a slightly different cloak would emphasis her importance. It seemed he wanted to make the most of having the dragonborn fighting for him.

He pinned the her cloak to her armour, and she felt the weight settle around her shoulders - heavy enough to notice but light enough to not distract her in a fight.

With a few final words and applause from the audience, the occasion was finished and Kyra was free to leave. Glad as she was to become a captain - and she had secretly fallen in love with her cloak already - she couldn't help but be annoyed by the unnecessary ceremony.

A few of the other captains clapped her on the shoulder as they headed out together, offering words of advice on how to deal with the responsibilities of being a captain - namely, dealing with soldiers who disobeyed your orders. Kyra took it all in, making mental notes. She knew some of the Stormcloaks who were looking for promotion would be annoyed by her sudden advancement in the ranks, and they were more likely to disobey than any of the others. As it was, even one or two of the captains were looking at her with faint irritation written on their features, although they hid it well.

She had agreed to meet Alaedra in the courtyard of the Palace of the Kings after the ceremony, so she headed there now, looking forward to seeing her. Her, Ralof and Alaedra had made plans to train together this afternoon.

Her cloak streaming behind her, she turned the corner into the courtyard, seeing soldiers running through drills or sparring casually with each other. Alaedra was facing a dummy, slashing her sword into it and experimenting with different techniques.

Kyra headed over. Alaedra couldn't have heard her approaching, but she much have known somehow, for she stopped her attack and turned to face Kyra. She sheathed her sword.

"The cloak looks good on you," Alaedra said softly, gesturing at it. "Blue suits you."

In a moment of whimsical joy, she twirled on the spot, letting her cloak flow out behind her as it rippled gently. "It feels familiar already. I had a cloak when I was in Morrowind but it wasn't as nice as this one."

"Should I start calling you captain Kyra now?" Alaedra asked, grinning.

"Of course," she replied in a haughty tone, turning her nose up at Alaedra. "I demand utter respect from my vassals."

Alaedra swept into an elaborate bow. "My lady captain Kyra Nightingale," she said, merging the words together on purpose. "I live to serve. You are the only one I see."

Kyra maintained her arrogant pose a little longer, before Alaedra snorted. And then they both descended into laughter, uncaring of how many looks the other soldiers were sending their way.

When they stopped their laughter, Kyra sent a glare at the soldiers, many of whom had probably stopped to get a look at 'Kyra Nightingale, captain of the Stormcloak army and the last dragonborn'. Enough awe-struck soldiers had been approaching her and asking for her to complete inane tasks for them. One had even asked to marry her.

"Do you want to spar?" Alaedra asked. "Ralof won't be joining us for an hour or so. No shouts allowed, though. I don't fancy being defeated in the first second!"

"You're no fun." She pouted, although she would later deny that - Kyra Nightingale does __not__ pout - and followed Alaedra over to one of the many sparring rings anyway.

Facing each other, they drew their swords and started circling, both wary. They dipped in and out, darting forwards and then ducking away without landing a blow, as they gauged each others weaknesses.

Kyra paused in her circling, and sent Alaedra a smirk. Alaedra hesitated for a minute, confusion flashing over her features, and Kyra used that time to lunge forwards, sending a quick strike towards Alaedra's arm.

Alaedra dodged backwards, but Kyra didn't give her the chance to recover. She continued advancing, putting Alaedra under pressure, before she accidentally overstretched on one of her strikes.

And then suddenly she was the one who was backing away from Alaedra, deflecting her sharp blows. One came into contact with her shoulder and she winced as her right arm tingled and went numb. She turned her body to the side, her left leg forwards and her right side protected until it recovered. She relied on her left sword, making continual quick strikes, and they exchanged more blows.

Alaedra started to tire, having spent all her energy in the first few minutes. Kyra immediately noticed - saw the ways her feet started dragging, the way her swords lowered slightly.

Kyra's right arm recovered and she reverted to her initial stance, using both her swords once more. She caught Alaedra a few times - not hard blows, but enough to smart.

She saw the exact time that Alaedra made her mind up. Her jaw clenched, her sword twitched once, and then she was ducking under Kyra's swipe and moving close. Alaedra caught both of Kyra's swords on the flat of her sword and braced herself, starting to push forwards.

They stayed locked in that position, eye-to-eye and so close their faces were almost touching. She could see the glint of determination in Alaedra's eyes, the thrill of the game glowing from within, and knew she looked the same.

Alaedra lent closer, their swords wavering as they both battled for dominance. They were so close that Kyra could just lean in and-

She smiled and broke away, catching Alaedra's swords on one of hers and __twisting__ to the side. Alaedra's sword was torn out of her grasp as Kyra disarmed her. Alaedra sagged, raising her hands in surrender.

"You win," Alaedra gasped, out of breath. "How did you do that?"

Kyra grinned in triumph. "I'll show you, if you want," she said as she picked up Alaedra's sword and offered it to her, hilt first. Alaedra took it gratefully, nodding.

"I don't know if you're aware of this," Kyra continued, "but I always knew when you were about to attack. Your sword twitches a little. And __then__ you move." She demonstrated quickly.

"It isn't __that__ obvious, is it?"

"Maybe not quite that much," she admitted. "But it's still there. I shouldn't worry at the moment though - it sounds like there's quite a while until the next mission. You'll have enough time to teach yourself not to do that."

"What's the next mission?"

"Something to do with Whiterun. Ulfric said one of his captains is delivering an offer to Balgruuf, who's remaining neutral at the moment. The outcome of that will decide our next operation. So, do you want me to teach you the disarming move?"

The next hour was spent demonstrating the disarmament on Alaedra, who then tried to use it on Kyra. It was a difficult move, and needed to be pulled off with precision. Alaedra made good progress, but although she managed to weaken Kyra's grip, she didn't manage to disarm her completely.

"Don't be disheartened," Kyra said as they took a break. "It takes a long time to get it perfect. And remember - I have the advantage of a Dov soul. The fact that you're doing so well against me shows just how good you are."

Alaedra ducked her head, blushing. "I guess," she said.

"What's this then?" a familiar voice asked. "Relaxing? __Chatting?__ You should be working yourself to the bone!"

"Oh, hey Ralof," Kyra greeted. "I don't see you 'working yourself to the bone'. What have you done this morning?" she grinned.

"I've actually had a very busy morning, I'll have you both know. I was up by the early hour of midday, and I've spent the past two hours bartering for a new shield."

Kyra hummed. "Yes, a very busy morning indeed. You must been feeling so tired."

"But you're still not missing out on this training session," Alaedra warned, although Kyra could see the humour in her eyes. "You'll be sparring against Kyra first."

Ralof let his eyes widen in mock fear. "I'm dead for sure then." He looked at Kyra, glanced behind her at the cloak, and a grin spread across his face. "Captain Kyra is it now? Congratulations."

Kyra nodded in acknowledgment. "To the sparring ring?" she asked.

Ralof let out a groan, muttering something about it _'_ _ _being too Oblivion-cursed early for this kind of thing,'__ but followed Kyra without further complaint.

Once in the ring, Kyra started circling to discover Ralof's weak points, and was surprised when Ralof dived straight into combat, his axe whirling.

For most of the fight, Kyra stayed at a distance and made the most of her speed, dodging or deflecting his blows. She never blocked them outright, purposefully leading him to think she wasn't as strong as him. When he swung his axe high and started bringing it down to signal her defeat and the end of the fight, Kyra darted forwards and raised both her swords to block his axe.

As the axe came into contact with her swords, a tremor shuddered through her arms. She held the position, and watched in amusement as Ralof's expression went from confident, to confused, to nervous. And she wasn't even using her full strength at the moment. She could distantly hear Alaedra cheering for her.

Gradually, she forced his axe up until it was far enough away from her. Then, while he was focusing on his weapon, she swept his feet from under him. He crashed to the ground, swearing.

Kyra offered him a hand and effortlessly pulled him up. "You alright there?" she asked.

He shook his head in amazement. "Oblivion, but you're good. Had me properly fooled."

"I try my best," she smirked, stepping out of the sparring ring and heading over to Alaedra. Alaedra smiled, and before Kyra could step backwards, quickly pulled her into a celebratory hug.

"What do you ladies say to a drink later? Candlehearth hall gives all captains a discount on drinks," Ralof offered and Kyra pulled back from Alaedra.

"Sounds like a plan," she said, swiftly glancing over at Alaedra to check she was okay with it. "There's nothing like a good ale when you feel you've earned it."

"You have to organise the timetable of night watches by this evening," Alaedra reminded her. "Ulfric won't be best pleased if you're not doing your duties this soon."

"Kaoc, I'd completely forgotten. Thanks for reminding me." She sighed, running a hand through her hair and grimacing. "I could probably get it filled in by this evening if I head down to the library now. We could meet up at seven?" she asked Ralof.

He spread his hands. "You're the boss. Seven sounds fine."

After talking a while longer, they bid him goodbye, both eager to change out of their sweaty armour and rest their aching muscles.

The library was only a stone's throw from the palace of the kings. They entered silently, and the soft scents of the books wafted towards Kyra. She took in deep breath, but blushed when Alaedra glanced at her in amusement.

"Come on," she murmured, tugging her to a small desk in the corner. "I have work to do."

Kyra seated herself, grabbing a quill and a piece of paper to try and organise the pattern of shifts - the times, the people, the length. It would be difficult trying to give everyone the same amount of nightwatches. And to make matters worse, she'd have to do this every two weeks. The joys.

Alaedra browsed the shelves as she started writing, and eventually sat next to Kyra with an ancient looking book. Kyra tried to continue her planning, but she couldn't stop herself from glancing at Alaedra every few minutes, who seemed to be oblivious to the attention.

The scratching of the quill and rustle of pages and Alaedra's gentle breathes were soon the only sounds she could hear.


	17. Closer than ever

**Warning: Dark themes may be addressed in later chapters.**

 **But for now, enjoy :)**

* * *

Kyra quickly settled into a rhythm as the days turned into weeks and autumn approached, promising the golden death of trees. Most of Kyra's time was filled with either training in the voice or swords, talking with Alaedra, or carrying out captain duties for Ulfric. There was little time to herself but strangely enough, she found she didn't mind.

The tediousness of the Stormcloak duties were quickly alleviated by Alaedra's gentle presence and Ralof's sharp humour. The overseeing captain - Sulak - had become an acquaintance of Kyra's, and was willing to let the three finish early if their work was complete. Naturally, they had made the most of that, and while Ralof often joined them in relaxing in Candlehearth hall afterwards, there were other times when it was just Kyra and Alaedra. Kyra found the time she spent with Alaedra just slipped away between her fingers - it seemed somehow meaningless when she was with her, as though everything else ceased to exist. They had made plans to explore the city together, but an afternoon wasn't enough, and so they often ventured outside of the city walls - to ice-skate, to walk, to practice shouts or sparring, or just to talk.

They had completed the building of the set of new barracks, aided by Kyra's new ability for short flight, and most of them were already occupied by new Stormcloaks. The recruits were mostly young men, their heads filled with idealistic hopes and preconceptions about war. Kyra privately thought Galmar took great joy in knocking that out of them with his brutal training regime, and although the new soldiers generally looked pretty down for the next few days, each of them, one by one, went up to Galmar and thanked him for the lesson.

Kyra - as a captain - was also expected to take some responsibility in training the recruits. Once a week, for several hours, she instructed them on the finer points of swordsmanship. There were many other veterans who were better fighters than her, but Ulfric wanted to show the recruits that the dragonborn played a large role of the army. Many of them seemed to be star-struck with her, and although that infuriated her to no end, it was better than them disobeyed her orders outright.

She couldn't say the same for some of the existing Stormcloaks. The Nord she had first met harassing Senethys - Rolff - seemed to delight in causing trouble among both Nords and Dunmer, but even he backed down to Raeun, self-proclaimed 'battle-giant'. When Kyra had breezed into the army and taken the position of captain in just over a month, Raeun had declared a personal vendetta against her, dragonborn or not.

He had been part of the army for several years, but due to misconduct against a fellow captain, he was demoted and placed in the new recruit's training program, where Kyra was forced to teach him about sword fighting. The first few sessions she had taken, he was sullen but didn't cause much trouble. Ralof had warned her about him, but she hadn't thought he would prove to be much of an issue. She was wrong.

It wasn't noticeable at the start, but as the weeks passed, she began to notice a divide between her recruits. Half of them treated her with awe, still shocked to be taught by the last dragonborn, but it soon became apparent Raeun had started to bully and coerce the other half of her recruits into subtle insubordination. They no longer obeyed her orders immediately, and if they did, they showed no mercy to the other half when sparring, resulting in more than one trip to the infirmary. When she had yelled at them for their obvious misuse of power, and the expectation that the sparring was to allow the others to improve, they had shrugged and wandered off.

Raeun had cast her a grin and gave a mock-salute before turning his back. She saw red, and Alaedra had needed to spend the entire afternoon trying to calm her down. The dragon inside her wasn't willing to let such a blatant slur to her leadership go unpunished and it roared its fury.

The next day, she was determined to put Raeun in his place. She arrived early, and when all the soldiers had filed into the courtyard, she put them through the usual paces. As she demonstrated the motions of a particularly difficult move, she kept an eye on Raeun. She watched his every move, waiting, just waiting, for him to kick off.

She didn't need to wait long.

"Are you actually going to teach us anything useful?" he shouted out, grinning. "You've obviously never seen a real battle."

Kyra smirked, finishing the combination before sheathing her swords smoothly. She turned to face him. "Would you care to repeat that?" she asked, keeping her voice calm even as the dragon raged.

Raeun sniggered, slowly sauntering forwards. He stopped less than a hands-width away from her, using his height to tower over her. "You can't teach me anything. You don't deserve to be a captain. Oblivion, you don't deserve to be dragonborn! I bet you can hardly use the voice." He spat in her face. Some of the other recruits laughed nervously.

Kyra wiped it off, shaking with the effort it took not to punch him. "Would you like a demonstration of the voice then? Or do you think I can't stand up for myself?" she smiled pleasantly. Raeun had never gone this far before, but that would only make it more satisfying.

"You wouldn't be able to last two seconds against me. You'd only be humiliated when I defeat you." He laughed, the sound harsh and grating.

She could see what he was doing - trying to intimidate her whilst keeping his position as leader among the recruits. But she could also see that he was nervous. He was aware that she could use the thu'um perfectly well, and he had nothing to back up his words. Of course, he was still hoping she'd back down. Perfect.

Her pleasant facade dropped. She smiled with teeth and saw him take a slight step backwards. "I'm sure you won't turn down the opportunity to __humiliate__ me then," she said, her voice as sharp as her swords. "What do you say to a friendly spar?"

His smile faltered, but he was careful not to let any of the recruits see it. He couldn't back down now - not when there were people watching. "You're only calling disaster on yourself," he grinned, before drawing his battleaxe and ducking under the ropes that separated the sparring ring.

Kyra joined him, jumping slightly on the spot to keep her muscles loose. She didn't bother to draw her swords. She didn't need to.

Raeun let loose a roar, running forwards and tried to bring his battleaxe crashing down on her head. She muttered the words for flight, and her body became weightless. In the instance before the battleaxe made contact with her, she pushed off the ground, flipping over his head as her cloak whipped around her. She hovered a few inches above the ground on the opposite side of the sparring ring.

Raeun whirled around, growling, and she dropped lightly on the ground.

" _ _Su__ _ _horvutah!"__ she shouted. Su for air. Horvutah for trap.

Raeun tried to attack her. His eyes went wide as he found he couldn't - to him, it would have felt as though his body was encased in stone. Immovable. Unrelenting.

She smiled, pacing forwards and circling, not taking her eyes off him. He started to splutter, first threatening her, and then descending into growls of frustration.

She backed off as she felt the shout starting to fade, but before he had the chance to take as much as a breath, she shouted again.

" _ _Yol vey!__ "

The sinuous trail of liquid fire formed, floating just above her head. She focused on sending it towards Raeun - not to kill, but to immobilize and humiliate.

The fire shot forwards, wrapping itself around his foot. He glanced down at it, eyes wide, and a strangled yell emitted from his throat as the fire suddenly surged upwards. He hung upside down, the battleaxe lying on the ground just inches from his fingers, taunting him.

With a series of quick thoughts aimed at the trail, the blaze of liquid fire shot upwards, and then twisted around, dragging a yelling Raeun around by his foot. His arms flailed, trying to slow down his path but the fire was unrelenting.

It was only when the power from the shout ran out that the fire faded, releasing him from its grip. He fell a few metres to the ground, and a sharp crack sounded around the courtyard as he made contact with the implacable stone ground.

She winced. It looked as though one of his arms were broken. She hadn't meant to injure him, only teach him to not mess with her, but now the dragon was purring in contentment and she found she didn't much care.

Haldir still lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, quivering. The other recruits seemed too terrified to do much else other than to just stand there, so she hauled Raeun up. He cringed, cradling his broken arm.

"You." She indicated to one of the recruits, who immediately saluted. It seemed that her little performance had done wonders to her reputation. "Take him up the infirmary and have him treated."

The recruit nodded, starting to lead Raeun away.

"Oh, and Raeun?" she called, smirking.

He turned around, looking pale.

"Don't mess with me again."

* * *

Ralof laughed, clapping her on the shoulder as he threw his head back, almost spilling his ale. "About time! Someone needed to put him in his place, and you did it perfectly. Oblivion, I wish I'd been there to see it."

Alaedra smiled softly. "I'm glad he isn't causing you any trouble now. Raeun should have respected you more in the first place."

Kyra nodded, and said, "He can barely look me in the eye now. It's really quite amusing."

The three of them sat in Candlehearth hall, celebrating Kyra's victory with a pint of ale as they watched darkness creep over the city of Windhelm. It had been a few days since the incidence with Raeun, but they had been busy with their duties, and hadn't found much time to catch up. As it was, Kyra and Alaedra were sharing a double nightwatch tonight, from ten until seven . They had agreed a pint of ale was needed to get them through the early hours of the morning.

"Have the other recruits started following you now?" Alaedra asked.

She nodded. "Even the ones that initially sided with Raeun seem too wary of me to disobey my orders now. I didn't particularly like scaring them, but a lot of the other captains wouldn't have been so lenient with such blatant insubordination. And they know that." She paused to take a sip of her ale. "What about you guys? Ralof, weren't you on a mission for a few days?"

"Yeah, it wasn't anything particularly important though. We were just adding more protection to one of the mobile camps - it came under attack from a small group of Imperials and the defenses were destroyed. But compared to what it's normally like, the army seems to be pretty low-key at the moment. My mate thinks Ulfric is planning something big for Whiterun."

"Didn't you mention something about that, Kyra?" Alaedra asked.

"Just that Ulfric had sent a captain to deliver an axe to Balgruuf. It's the traditional way of war captains communicating with each other. He should be back any time soon with the verdict."

"Didn't you hear?" Ralof asked. "Captain Sigmund arrived last night, and Balgruuf returned the axe."

Kyra groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "Fireblood," she cursed. "I really hoped that wouldn't happen. Now Ulfric is going to expect us to take Whiterun through force, injuring innocent people and just… _ _xuth__!"

"Hey, hey, hey, it's fine." Ralof rushed to reassure her. "Word on the street is that Ulfric has decided not to attack Whiterun directly. He's going to nominate a champion who'll fight Balgruuf's champion. If our champion wins, Balgruuf will support us."

"And why haven't I heard about this?" Kyra asked, annoyed. "I thought Ulfric was supposed to keep his captains up to date."

"He hasn't officially announced it yet. What I've heard is only leaked rumours, even if they do sound true. I reckon he'll probably nominate you though."

"Me? But why? I won't be able to use the voice in the duel, and there are better sword-masters than me in the army."

"Probably for morale," Alaedra said. "I mean, if the __dragonborn__ wins the duel and secures the alliance with Whiterun, that's a pretty big statement to make."

She shrugged. "Ulfric will probably summon me anyway, if I __am__ going to be the champion. I guess it could be worse though - it'll mean I can see Adrianne again."

"Adrianne?"

"An old friend who lives in Whiterun. I didn't see her for quite a few years, and even when I was there a few months ago, I barely had the chance to speak to her. It'll be nice to meet up. I'll introduce you guys."

"That'd be nice," Alaedra smiled.

"Oh! That reminds me," Ralof suddenly said. "Eveda may be joining the rebellion in a few weeks!"

"Eveda's your…girlfriend?" Kyra asked hesitantly, racking her brains to remember.

He nodded enthusiastically. "She's staying with family at the moment, but says she's heading here soon. I can't wait for you to meet her. And…I wanted to run something past you guys," he said, his tone turning serious.

"Of course. Anything," Alaedra said, leaning forwards.

Ralof reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it, and Kyra smiled when she saw a glittering ring nestled inside.

"You're going to propose to her?" Alaedra asked, her voice soft.

"I was just worried about moving too soon," Ralof admitted. "I've only known her for a year, but she seems to be dropping hints and joking about getting married. I mean, you two are girls-"

"Well noticed," Kyra interjected dryly.

He glared jokingly at her before continuing. "Do you think she'll say yes?"

"Of course!" Alaedra near-squealed. "If a girl is dropping hints about getting married, chances are, she __wants__ to get married."

He sighed with relief, gazing at the ring. "Thank the Gods. This was my grandmother's, and I only intend to give it to someone once." He paused, glancing outside. "Shouldn't you ladies be heading to your posts for the nightwatch soon? It looks pretty late."

"Oblivion," Alaedra cursed, draining the last of her ale and standing up. "Kyra, you coming?"

"Right behind you," she said, smiling in amusement at Alaedra's eagerness.

They said goodbye to Ralof, who seemed content to finish the last of his ale in peace, before hurrying out the door.

The alleys were lit by small lamps suspended on vertical poles above the street. The firelight flickered, and the edges of the street still clung to the shadow, bathed in the darkness. People hurried along beside them, the streets still busy even this late at night.

A few minutes later saw them reaching their designated post - they were guarding the bridge across the river just outside of the city walls. The current guards looked happy to be relieved from their duty and headed off as soon as Kyra and Alaedra came into sight, no doubt heading for the warm comfort of the inn.

Kyra used her __shield from cold__ shout before her and Alaedra had a chance to feel the icy wind and they settled into their stances, swords within easy reach. An attack wasn't expected, but they couldn't afford to be lax.

They stood together in comfortable silence. By now, neither of them felt the need to fill the calming quiet with words, and they watched as the moons slowly rose from the horizon to look over them. The gentle pink-rose Masser and the pale silver Secunda surrounded themselves with shimmering stars and their colours perfectly complemented each other. Silhouettes of trees rose up to graze the endless night sky, standing as giants amongst men against a backdrop of eternity.

She smiled, the night wrapping softly around her, and looked over at Alaedra. Alaedra had her head tilted back, her eyes alight with wonder as she took in the night sky. The dancing light of the moon, soft and soothing, lit up her face, bathing it with incandescence.

"It's beautiful," Alaedra whispered, not moving her gaze from the dizzying infinity that stretched out in front of her. "I just wish I knew their names."

Kyra titled her head to the side. "Why do you want to know the names of the stars? I'd prefer it if they were nameless - they are far above us and we cannot attribute mortal names to them, knowing they will outlast us. Nameless, they keep their mystery and their wonder, and somehow still manage to capture our curiosity."

"Knowing their names doesn't decrease what they are. Whether we assign names to them, they will, and will always be, stars. But they can be in the tales we pass on, in the whispers we tell our friends, in the hope that one day we can dance among them," Alaedra replied, finally looking at Kyra, and Kyra could see the endless curiosity that lay there.

She hesitated, then turned her gaze to the sky and started speaking. "You see that cluster of stars next to Secunda? That constellation is called __Acinonyx__. An ancient culture, much older than we know, named the central star - the bright red one - after their god of poetry, who was cast from the heavens because his poems were deemed too beautiful for any creature to hear. He was immortalized in the night sky, and the stars around him signify the seven poems of life.

"The straight line of stars at the east is well-known amongst Khajit. They called it the __Eastern Spear__ , the spear that Alkosh allegedly used to defeat his enemies, before it was torn from his hands amidst a great battle with nameless beings.

" _ _Cuon__ is a singular star, not a constellation, and is known for the faint golden colour you can see at the start of dusk. Her brother star lies in the opposite hemisphere, __Helarctos__ , who emits a silver gleam at dawn. Legend has it that they were once together, inseparable until the end of time. But they conspired together to leave the night sky, and the northern star and leader of the Silk, __Arctictus__ , forbade them further contact. They did not obey, and as punishment, he cursed __Cuon__ to become the opposite to her brother, __Helarctos__ \- in colour, position and timing. The Argonians believe that when the stars fall from the sky, they will be together once more."

She continued talking, the words flowing effortlessly from her lips as she named the stars, describing the myths and legends behind each one. As she spoke, she imagined the battles that had raged between heroes long passed. And she imagined the stars falling in a rain of fire, trailing tails of dust and ice as they crashed into the ground. And she imagined the burning embers that spoke of a broken eternity and whispered sorrows and half-perceived notions of reality and time.

Her words dwindled away.

Alaedra was looking at her, starlight dancing in her eyes and moonlight kissing her lips. Strands of Alaedra's golden mahogany hair brushed the air, seeming like embers trapped in mortal form. "Thank you," she said softly. "That was beautiful."

Kyra shrugged, noticing the intensity that was layered in Alaedra's tone. "It was something my mum taught me at night. She wanted me to be able to name all the stars so I could always tell where I was if I lost my way."

Alaedra sighed, digging her heel into the ground. "I wish my mum had done that for me."

Kyra was surprised to find a trace of bitterness in Alaedra's tone, and frowned. "Didn't you and your mum have a good relationship?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"I wouldn't say it was __bad__ …just nonexistent."

She swallowed, wondering whether to change the topic if Alaedra didn't want to talk about it, but then Alaedra started speaking. She listened.

"My parents had very traditional views of what a girl's role should be. The most adventurous job they would permit was a bard, and, seeing nothing better, I decided to go down that route. My brother, of course, had no restrictions on what he was allowed to do, and joined the Fighters Guild as soon as he could. I trained at home in the instruments and voice, waiting for my parents to send me to the Bards College here in Skyrim, while my brother was out fighting bandits. And then he was killed. We never found out how, we just know he was. My parents were distraught. Forgot about me for a few months, and then suddenly pretended nothing had happened. My brother wasn't spoken about. They retracted their permission to let me study in the Bard's college, and I just drifted through the next few years. It took me a while to summon the courage to leave, but I eventually did. I joined the Fighters Guild, following in my brother footsteps and trained there for a while, before deciding I wanted __more__. I wanted to explore. So I came here. To Skyrim."

Kyra moved closer to Alaedra, offering silent comfort and hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Do...you still talk with your parents?"

She shook her head, glaring at her feet. "No. We exchanged a few letters when I was in the Fighters Guild, but when I told them I was moving to Skyrim, they cut off all contact."

Kyra growled under her breath, before stepping closer and wrapping her arms around Alaedra, wishing she could protect her as easily. Alaedra shifted, and then Kyra was suddenly being hugged back, feeling Alaedra's soft breath against her neck.

They stood in the night like that for countless minutes, taking comfort in each others arms, before they gently disentangled. Kyra sent a reassuring smile and Alaedra sent one back.

The silence returned, peace hovering over them as the night flew by on shadowy wings, the moons gradually shifting their position in the night sky. The stillness of midnight had descended on them when Alaedra suddenly sighed.

She glanced over. "You okay?" Kyra asked.

Alaedra hesitated, looking conflicted, before turning to look at her, her face serious.

Kyra braced herself for the worse, biting her lip.

Alaedra opened her mouth. "I don't know your favourite colour," she said simply.

Kyra tilted her head to the side, confused. "What?"

"See!" Alaedra said suddenly, her voice loud in the stillness of the night, and Kyra jumped.

"What?" she asked again, wondering what in Oblivion was going on inside Alaedra's head.

"You just tilted your head to the right. I know you so well that I know you do that when you're genuinely curious or confused. And I know you well enough to realise that when you tilt your head to the left, you're faking your interest. I know everything about you, and at the same time, I know __nothing__."

Kyra hesitated. "I…do that?"

"Yes! And you're doing it now."

She hurriedly straightened her head. "And what was all that about not knowing my favourite colour?"

"Exactly that. I can read you __so__ well, but I don't know the most basic things about you. I get that you don't want to talk about your past yet, and that's fine. Really, it is. But everything else? I want to know your favourite music, your hobbies, your worst flaws, what makes you smile. I want to know all that about you," Alaedra said softly, biting her lip.

Kyra took in a faint breath, before purposefully relaxing her muscles. "Okay," she said at last. "But I want to know the same about you. A question for a question."

The smile that formed on Alaedra's face was dazzling in its intensity. "I'm going first," she immediately said. "So…what __is__ your favourite colour?"

"Bronze," she answered immediately. "Yours?"

"Pale blue. Like the sky on a winter morning." She glanced away, brow furrowing in thought. "What's the worst trouble you've ever gotten into?"

Kyra smirked. "That'd be in Morrowind. I visited the capital city, Vivec, when I had only been in the country for a few weeks. The guards there are called Ordinators and have their own specific uniform. The thing is, I didn't know you were forbidden to wear it. I struck a deal with a dodgy vendor, who sold me the armour cheaply. I thought it'd be useful for going around and exploring, if nothing else. So there I was, prancing around the city wearing the uniform of the Ordinators - yeah, it didn't end well." She cringed from the memory, before trying to think of a question for Alaedra. "What do you worry about most?" she asked hesitantly.

Alaedra pursed her lips. "I guess…not being able to do the right thing. That's why the whole thing with the Imperials and Stormcloaks impacted me so much. But I also worry about not doing anything worthwhile with my life. I just don't want to drift along in life, and when I die, be remembered for nothing."

"You won't," Kyra promised her. "You're already well-known, and not just because you're friends with the dragonborn. You'll be someone one day. Someone you can be proud of."

Alaedra nodded. "I hope you're right. Well, what do you worry about the most?"

"A repeat of the past," she said truthfully, knowing that Alaedra wouldn't pressure her to revealing anything else. "What makes you happy?" she asked, choosing to go for a more pleasant topic.

Alaedra hummed in thought. "Well, I was first going to say walking in the early morning, when everything is clear and a new day is starting. But the truth is actually a little cheesy."

"Just say it," Kyra said, smiling.

"Spending time with you. Yes, I know that sounds impossibly cheesy but it's true. You really do make me happy and I'm so glad I chose this path."

Kyra was lost for words. She spluttered, trying to say something, and blushed when Alaedra laughed. "Well, do you want to know what makes me happy?" she asked quietly when her words recovered. "It's you. I still can't believe that someone as amazing and kind and clever as you enjoys spending time with me. And the time we spend together just doesn't seem enough - I always want to spend a few more minutes, exchange a few more words, share a few more smiles. When you stay up late waiting for me to arrive after my captain's duties, or when you say something about me that's just so __true__ that I didn't even realise it myself, or when you're willing to laugh and joke with me - it makes me happier than I care to admit." She took in a deep breath, slightly incredulous she had just admitted all that to Alaedra.

Alaedra smiled, and gently took Kyra by the hand. Kyra shivered as fire rushed through her when their hands made contact and her breath stuttered. She gently traced her fingers over Alaedra's hands, feeling the delicate softness, mapping the curves and smooth skin. Her thumb brushed over a small raised scar and she rubbed circles over it, pretending she didn't hear Alaedra's breath catch.

And as the moons continued their endless vigilance over the world, they continued talking, sharing, discovering hidden things about each other. And as the sun started to peer over the horizon, banishing the moons and the stars to their dark twilight, they walked the streets of Windhelm, feeling closer than ever before.


	18. Just friends

Kyra knocked sharply on the oak door, dressed in her captain's uniform, her cloak sweeping over her shoulders and down her back. She waited until a deep voice resonated from inside Ulfric's office.

"Enter."

She opened the door, spotting Ulfric standing with his back to her, looking out of a window. She walked towards him, taking the opportunity to look around his office as she did.

It was wide and spacious, the ceiling arched, and colourful tapestries were draped over the horizontal beams. A few bookshelves dotted the edge of the room, accompanied by both weapon and armour displays. Ulfric's desk stood at the centre of the room, another small table adjacent to it. A map of Skyrim covered the smaller table, and pins highlighted strategic positions in the war - almost identical to the one in the war room. The wooden floor was partly covered by the pelt of an animal - perhaps a snow bear - and she growled softly before taking a deep breath.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked cautiously, stopping a few metres away from the desk.

Ulfric turned around, his hand resting comfortably on his sword. "I assume you've heard the rumours about Whiterun?"

"Ralof told me you plan to chose a champion to fight Balgruuf's nominated champion. If your champion wins, Balgruuf will support the Stormcloaks."

"Indeed. I was initially going to man a full-force attack on Whiterun, but Galmar has reliably informed me that clan Grey-mane support me, and laying waste to their city may cost me a valuable ally. I'm sure you'll agree with me. Which is why I've nominated you to be the Stormcloak's champion. The procession is heading to Whiterun in three days time."

She nodded, unsurprised, and then remembered her manners. "Thank you," she said hastily.

"You don't look surprised," Ulfric remarked.

"I'm not. Alaedra thought you would nominate me. Even if I'm not the best swordsman in the army, I'm still Dovahkiin, and that's a pretty powerful message to send to the Imperials."

Ulfric looked thoughtful. "That girl's got a smart head on her shoulders alright. Tell her to carry on doing what she's doing, and she could be looking at promotion."

Kyra smiled, already able to picture Alaedra's smile in her head when she told her the news. "Is there anything else?"

"That's all for now, dragonborn. I suggest you spend the next few days practicing your swordwork. Balgruuf set the condition that no magic would be used in the duel - and that includes the thu'um."

Kyra nodded, withdrawing from the room, and headed down the corridor. Allowing herself a small smile of contentment when nearby Stormcloaks saluted as she passed, she navigated the winding passages that made up the interior of the King's palace, heading for the training courtyard. She had left Alaedra in the sparring ring when the summons had come, and knew she would still be there. Ulfric hadn't needed much of her time.

When she entered into the courtyard, she had immediately spotted Alaedra beating up her favourite dummy with sharp sword swings, her armour shining in the afternoon sun.

She watched for a few minutes, unwilling to break Alaedra's concentration, before heading over to her. Alaedra was breathing heavily as she sheathed her swords, sweat glistening on her face, and grinned at Kyra.

Kyra returned the smile, and then briefly relayed Ulfric's plan for Whiterun, and after pausing for dramatic effect, told her about Ulfric's plan for promoting her in the not-so-far future.

Alaedra didn't stop talking about it all day. Despite her recent awareness about the true nature of both men and the war, she was still hopeful that the Stormcloaks could refine their views once the war had been won. Kyra knew how badly she wanted to be a lieutenant, to have some power in the army that could allow her to push changes forwards.

Ralof, being a lieutenant himself, offered Alaedra some tips when they had settled down to their usual seat in Candlehearth hall that night. Unsurprisingly, much of the advice was terrible. The most worrying yet simultaneously humourous piece of advice was to 'not eat hallucinogenic mushrooms when on a mission, no matter how hungry you are.'

Despite both Kyra and Alaedra pleading with him to share the story about the mushrooms, he refused, saying it was for another time. Kyra thought that was the first time she'd seen him embarrassed.

* * *

Kyra sighed with relief as she saw the walls of Whiterun appear on the horizon. They had been travelling for far _ _, far__ too long, and she was looking forward to a warm bed. Her horse trotted alongside Galmar's and Alaedra's, with Ulfric at their head. Soldiers rode behind them, accompanied by several wagons. Ulfric had been adamant to bring enough forces for a show of strength, but enough that Windhelm was well-defended in his absence.

A few minutes later saw them pulling up on the grassland just outside of Whiterun. Ulfric ordered the majority of the soldiers to disembark and set up camp - Balgruuf was only prepared to accommodate for Ulfric and Galmar, and Kyra had Breezehome to share with Alaedra for the remainder of their stay - and commanded a handful of soldiers to follow him into the city, including Kyra and Alaedra.

As they entered the city, noise struck her like a physical blow. The streets were lined with people - the elderly, children, workers, guards. The majority of them were smiling, but there were a few among them that were scowling, snarls marring their faces. She scanned the crowd for Adrianne, and saw her a little way off. She was met with an encouraging smile that made her hold her head just a little higher.

The crowds started to dwindle down as they approached the steps to dragon's reach - no doubt Balgruuf had ordered a certain perimeter - and she felt rather than heard Alaedra breath a sigh of relief next to her.

The interior of Dragon's Reach was as familiar as ever, despite the months that had passed. Unfortunately, the court wizard, Farengar, was altogether __too__ familiar, and she barely managed to contain her scowl as she passed him. This was a partly diplomatic mission, and politeness was needed. So she smiled instead, and was rewarded with a look of surprise.

Balgruuf and Ulfric greeted each other cordially, if not a little warily, but that was only to be expected. Terms of courtesy passed between them and she pulled up her respectful mask, standing to attention until Irileth was announced as Balgruuf's champion. Kyra stepped forwards to shake Irileth's hand, and although Irileth returned the gesture, as per the rules of dueling, her face was creased in irritation. She was tempted to shrug. After all, this wasn't her fault - and things could have been a lot worse had Ulfric not decided on this course of action. And she was fairly sure Balgruuf preferred this course of action to the city being in flames and him threatened into submission.

After a few more minutes of meaningless conversation that was only dictated by tradition, Kyra and Alaedra were finally free to leave. The duel was tomorrow, so they had the rest of the day and tomorrow morning to relax - or, in Kyra's case, train.

Exciting dragon's reach, she spotted the crowd in the distance. It was smaller now, the initial excitement having dwindled, but there were still too many people for comfort. She slid her hood over her face, and was preparing to just barge her way through, when Alaedra grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a previously unnoticed side street.

"Where are we going?" she asked, confused.

"I noticed you didn't seem too fond of the crowds, so I figured we can just take the back streets. I doubt there'll be as many people."

She nodded, thankful. "How do you know where to go? Whiterun isn't exactly small."

"I spent quite a few months here with the Companions, remember? I managed to find my way around." Alaedra grinned, easily navigating her way between houses.

Kyra shook herself for not remembering. "Of course. Oh, that's something I've been meaning to ask you. You're one of the Companions but you've just spent three months with the Stormcloaks. Are they really that relaxed about you just upping and leaving whenever you feel like it?"

She shrugged. "Pretty much. Unless you're part of the inner circle and don't have any on-going tasks, they're willing to cut you some slack about where you go. I'm going to visit them later, but only when the crowds have died down."

They came to a stop by the back of a small house. Kyra looked at it, looked at Alaedra, looked back at the house. She frowned. And then she did a double-take.

"Hang on-wait. This is my house." She whirled on Alaedra. "How in Oblivion did you know this was my house?"

Alaedra smirked. "Spooky, isn't it?" she asked, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Kyra heaved a sigh, and then fumbled around in her pack for the elusive, rarely used key. She jammed it in the door and stepped through, promptly getting hit in the face by a hanging string of garlic. Muffled laughter sounded behind and she just shook her head.

"Did you know," she remarked casually to Alaedra when she was sprawled on a seat by the table, "that I've only been here once before?"

"Really? But…it's your house."

"Astute observation," she muttered dryly, and got punched on her arm for her efforts. She scowled. "You just don't appreciate my humour."

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to actually call it __humour__."

"What would you call it then?" she asked, a smile twisting her lips.

"Oh, you mean the snarky, sarcastic words that sometimes come out your mouth?"

"Excuse me. Sarcasm is the highest form of humour."

"Or the lowest form of wit-"

Kyra pounced.

Alaedra collapsed on the floor, laughter spilling carelessly from her lips as Kyra mercilessly tickled her, her fingers quickly identifying Alaedra's weakest areas. Alaedra squirmed on the floor but Kyra didn't let up, grinning in amusement as she first pleaded, then threatened.

"You'd better let me up, you Oblivion-cursed annoyance, or I'll make sure you can't walk for a week once I'm through with you. Gah!"

Kyra smirked at the unintentional innuendo and carried on tickling Alaedra, who twisted frantically beneath her, trying to throw her off.

"Am…am I interrupting something?" an amused voice sounded from behind her, and she jolted in shock, scrambling off Alaedra, who was breathing heavily.

"I-no, we weren't doing anything. At all. Nothing at all. Just…" she gestured vaguely at Alaedra, her face growing warm when she saw Alaedra adjusting her ruffled clothes.

"Sure," Adrienne grinned from her position by the back door - which had been left open.

She internally cursed, quickly hurrying over to the door and closing it. "Why are you here?" she hissed at Adrienne, embarrassment catching up with her. She knew she was still blushing.

"Well, the door was open and I heard sounds that vaguely sounded like someone dying. Add that to the fact that I know a certain dragonborn is in town…" She shrugged, and then held her hand out for Alaedra to shake. "In case you hadn't gathered, I'm Adrienne."

"Alaedra," she said by means of introduction. "Kyra's mentioned you more than once or twice."

"She'd better have," Adrianne smiled. "In case you wanted to know, the crowds have died down now. I assume that was your reason for using the backstreets. Not that I blame you," she added.

"Oh!" Alaedra said. "I'd better go and talk to Vilkas, let him know I'm here, before I forget. It was lovely meeting you," she said, smiling at Adrienne, before walking out the door, hr face still tinged red.

Kyra smiled after her, and then turned around to see Adrienne smirking at her, a knowing expression flitting over her face.

"What?" she asked, suddenly feeling apprehensive.

"So." Adrienne wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "You and her?"

"Me and her? What about us?"

"How did you get together?" Adrienne asked in a sing-song tone, her smile threatening to split her face.

"Wha-oh. No, we're not together," she said hurriedly, a strange pang filling her chest. "We're just friends."

Adrienne frowned then, before her expression cleared. "But you don't want to be __just friends__ , do you?" she asked softly.

Kyra swallowed, heart thudding. "I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, avoiding eye-contact.

She heard Adrienne sigh. "Of course not." She paused for a minute, looking as though she wanted to carry on the topic, but changed her mind. "But anyway. Are you going to tell me what you've been up to these past months? How were the Greybeards? And how come you're now part of the Stormcloak army? All in, what? Five, six months?"

Kyra told her about everything that had happened in the past few months - a simultaneously chaotic whirlwind and a relaxing breeze. Adrianne listened attentively, pausing to ask questions occasionally. She answered them as best as she could, and once her tale was over, their conversation descended into lighter topics. As they spoke, darkness descended outside and they were forced to light candles mid-way through their conversation.

Eventually Adrianne bid her goodnight, saying she needed to be refreshed and ready for the duel tomorrow.

Once she had left, Kyra stayed sitting at the table. The silence around her seemed…strange somehow. She couldn't remember the last time she had heard absolute silence. The Stormcloak army didn't know the definition of quiet, and her days were filled with duties, sparring, or talking with Alaedra. Even at night, Alaedra's soft breath had kept her company through the dark hours, as did the muffled voices that sometimes filtered through the window.

It didn't feel like a bad thing. She knew she had become too accustomed to silence in her past, often going for days without speaking to another person when she was travelling, but the constant excitement and changes of the past few months had made her feel, strangely enough, lighter. Alaedra was the main reason behind her happiness though - that was irrefutable.

Her thoughts slowly drifted to Alaedra, and she realised a smile had formed on her lips. They had grown closer than she ever thought they would, to the extent that she felt almost…lonely without Alaedra. It seemed that being alone held no appeal for her any more - at least, not when Alaedra was in the picture. Alaedra was constantly surprising her with her endless kindness, even at the start of their friendship, even when they had been practically strangers. She couldn't imagine Alaedra being a stranger anymore.

That night under the stars, they had shared their biggest fears and insecurities by the light of the moons, and neither had judged the other. And although Kyra had yet to share the details of her past, talking about it with Alaedra no longer seemed the momentous task it had seemed at the start.

They had grown so close, so quickly, and she knew that if she paused for a breath, paused to clear her head, she would realise just how deep she was already. But she didn't want to. For the first time in a long, __long__ time, she wanted to throw herself in head-first, to seize the moment, to take a chance on them.

Yet caution held her back. The grip of the past was weakening - she couldn't remember the last time the memories had resurfaced, Alaedra seem to drive them away - but it was still lingering. The fear that the past could repeat itself, only this time Alaedra would be the one to suffer, their friendship would suffer, and they could never retrieve this whirlwind happiness. That alone was enough to temper her emotions.

She wouldn't let herself think about what Adrienne had meant. Her and Alaedra were __friends__ , and that was all she wanted.

A gentle tap on the door startled her from her thoughts, and she opened the door, ushering Alaedra inside. Alaedra was shivering - she hadn't taken any warm clothes with her and it was pitch-black outside - so she hurriedly guided her to the seat by the fire. Alaedra sat down gratefully.

"I'm sorry I was so long," she said. "Vilkas wanted to update me on everything that had happened while I'd been gone. He really seems to want me to continue doing work with them."

"Will you? Carry on doing work for them, that is?" she elaborated.

"Yes," she admitted, "but not until the Stormcloaks have won. That could be next week or ten years time, but I want to have a solid aim."

Kyra nodded, agreeing silently, before a thought occurred to her. "How __did__ you know this was my house?"

Alaedra blushed, glancing down at her hands at her cheeks turned red. "I…oh, it doesn't really matter." She avoided eye contact.

She smiled uncertainly, and waited, knowing the silence would get to Alaedra sooner or later.

Alaedra squirmed in her seat. "Okay, fine! I had spoken to you after you killed the dragon - Mirmulnir - and I was…intrigued by you. So I asked Vilkas if he knew where you lived, and he said you lived near Adrienne, although he didn't know exactly. So I…well, I saw you exciting Adrienne's place that night. And…I might have followed you?" Her voice grew higher.

She choked out a laugh. "You __stalked__ me?"

"No! Nothing like that! Well, maybe a little," she muttered.

Kyra ignored the warm feeling that blossomed inside her, but couldn't stop her smile from slipping out. "Admit it - you liked me from the start."

"Did not! You were quite rude to me, if I remember correctly."

She winced. "Yeah…sorry about that. But hey, I couldn't have put you off that much, could I?"

"You'd never put me off," Alaedra said softly. "You're amazing."

Kyra realised with a start just how close they were to each other. She could see every faint freckle that dotted Alaedra's pale cheeks, her delicately curled eyelashes, her softly parted lips, her dilated pupils.

Her own skin was scorching, fire seeming to emanate from within as her heart sped up, beating a rapid rhythm against her ribcage. Her head was light and her mouth was dry - was she ill? She must be, for she wouldn't consider the alternative.

But despite her refusal to think about the alternative, she couldn't stop her body from starting to lean in, eyes fixed on Alaedra's lips. Yet as soon as the thought crossed her mind, and as soon as her body had twitched forwards, sense returned and she reeled backwards. It didn't look as though Alaedra had even noticed.

"Anyway, I should head to bed," Kyra said, trying to control her body and breaking the silence that was filled with soft breathing and a sense of anticipation.

Alaedra nodded, looking reluctant for some reason. "Yes, you've got an important fight tomorrow. You need to be fighting fit."

Kyra smiled. "Yes mum," she said sarcastically, glad for the change in conversation.

She organised the spare bedroom for Alaedra, arranging the blankets so they were comfortable, and she knew she blushed when Alaedra thanked her with a smile.

"Sleep well," Alaedra said softly.

She smiled. "You too," she replied.

Her dreams were filled with Alaedra that night and she woke in the early hours of the morning, breathing heavily and flushing. She wouldn't let herself dwell on the dream, wouldn't let herself dwell on how __right__ the touch of Alaedra's lips on hers had felt. And no matter how many more dreams followed in a similar vein, they were _ _just friends__.

But she was no longer quite so sure.


	19. Motionless infinity

The morning dawned clear and bright, anticipation hovering in the air. Kyra had been practicing her sword routines since dawn outside the castle walls, preparing for the oncoming fight. It was only when she was confident in her ability and the sun was high in the horizon that she headed back to Breezehome, panting lightly.

Entering, she expected to be confronted with Alaedra, demanding to know where Kyra had been - she had left before it was light - but there was silence. She frowned, heading upstairs, and was about to knock on Alaedra's door when she head soft snores emanating from within.

She smiled, quietly opening the door. Alaedra was sprawled in bed, an arm and a leg hanging loosely over the side, sheets tangled in her legs.

She threw open the curtains and Alaedra moaned, an arm instructively coming up to cover her eyes.

"Wakey wakey," Kyra sang, crossing the room. "It's a lovely day outside!"

"Go 'way," was all that could be heard from Alaedra. By now, Kyra had realised that Alaedra most certainly was __not__ a morning person. She derived endless amusement from the fact.

"Surely you don't want to miss my fight?" Kyra teased, and smiled when Alaedra slowly sat up in bed, hair dishevelled.

"What time is it?" Alaedra mumbled, eyes still screwed shut.

"Oh, around half ten ish."

"What!" Suddenly awake, Alaedra threw herself out of bed, blinking awake and Kyra averted her eyes, blushing, when she realised Alaedra was barely wearing anything. "Your fight is in half an hour! Why didn't you wake me up sooner? I've got to get ready."

Kyra chuckled. "I'll see you downstairs in ten."

Precisely ten minutes later, Alaedra clattered downstairs, still frantically tugging a comb through her hair.

"Relax, relax," Kyra said, placing breakfast in front of her. "We've got enough time. Now eat that, I'll sort out your hair."

Alaedra hurriedly ate, and Kyra gently ran the comb through Alaedra's hair, teasing out the tangles. And then Kyra paused, a wry smile twisting her lips.

"What?" Alaedra asked through mouthful of food. She had obviously felt her hesitation.

She shook her head although Alaedra couldn't see it. "Nothing. Just…this is so __domestic__. All of it. Huh, I never thought I'd be in this position."

"Is that a good thing?" Alaedra asked.

"Yes," she said after a pause. "Yes, I suppose it is."

They finished getting ready in silence, Kyra mentally preparing herself for the fight. There was a lot riding on this, and the support of Balgruuf could sway the tide of the war. She __couldn't__ lose.

The streets were lined with people as they headed out of the house, colourful flags flapping in the wind above them. The people of Whiterun seemed to see this as an opportunity to celebrate, to have fun. Kyra couldn't understand that. Why were they treating this so flippantly when the outcome of the duel would decide which side of the war they would be supporting? And indeed, although some faces looked somber and worried, the rest were laughing and exchanging money - bets. Her lip curled.

They reached the dedicated section for the duel - a large circle had been roped off and faceless guards were keeping back the crowds of people, who were pushing and shoving for a better look.

"Good luck," Alaedra said, turning to her. "Kick her ass."

She smirked. "Of course I will," she said, and then she ducked under the rope, gently brushing a finger against her swords for comfort.

Kyra wasn't scared, but she was tense, bordering on nervousness. She had no idea of the skill level of Irileth - probably very high - and she didn't know her style of fighting. This duel had been arranged very quickly, and she suddenly felt unprepared,

She swallowed, glancing around the dueling area. There was a raised pedestal at the head, with two carved thrones - no doubt for Balgruuf and Ulfric to oversee the fighting of their respective champions. A smaller seat was placed to the side, although she didn't know who would be residing there for the duration of the duel.

A figure, cloaked in flowing black robes, was crouched on the floor. He was doing something in front of him and Kyra subtly moved to the side so she could see. He was holding an item in both hands - somewhere between a small curved dagger and a quill - and was dragging it across the stone floor. Wherever the point touched, the stone glowed.

He suddenly stood, walked two paces to his left, crouched, and repeated the same process. Curious, Kyra watched as he continued his motions. She walked over to one of his previous positions, and could see lines carved into the stone, still slightly smoldering.

"Protective runes," a voice said, and she turned around to see Ulfric standing by her shoulder. "For a duel as important as this, there needs to be a safeguard against cheating."

"How?"

Ulfric made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "I wouldn't know - I like to keep magic as far away as possible. But I __do__ know that the magic bound in those runes will punish you if you cheat. So don't. That said, you __need__ to win," he added. "And that is not negotiable."

She nodded firmly. "I'm going to win," she said.

Ulfric clapped her briefly on her shoulder, and then walked off, heading towards Balgruuf.

Slowing her breathing, she moved to the centre of the dueling area and unsheathed both her swords. She ran through a few sword maneuvers, but purposefully altered her fighting style a little. If Irileth was watching, she wouldn't get any valuable insights into how Kyra fought.

A few minutes passed as she warmed up, and then a small man approached her. She hurriedly stopped her sword swing lest she accidentally strike him, and turned to face him.

"Are you the other duelist?" His tone was clipped and efficient.

She nodded, sheathing her swords. The star-shaped badge pinned on his armour showed him to be one of the overseeing judges for the duel.

"Come with me," he said, and headed off.

Kyra followed, seeing Irileth being led by another judge. Her face was taut but her eyes glimmered.

The judges commanded them to stand exactly four metres away from each other and unsheathe their chosen weapon. They both did as they were told, and Kyra absentmindedly noticed the crowd around them had fallen silent, aside from the occasional cheer.

The judges informed them of the nature of the duel - as though they didn't already know - and the chosen outcomes that the victor (whoever that would be) had outlined.

"This duel, on the 20th of Frostfall, is between Irileth Sayavyn of Whiterun and Kyra Nightingale of Whiterun, for their chosen liege lord, Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun and Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm respectively. The victor shall lay out the terms of their agreement as according to the words of their pledge.

"This duel continues until one duelist is either unable to continue fighting or submits, and therefore withdraws from the duel. Killing is prohibited, and in the case of a kill, the victim's chosen liege lord shall automatically be declared victor over the duel. Magic and other attacks that are not of physical means will be dealt with by the protective runes."

Kyra and Irileth saluted each other with their swords, before turning to the judges and doing the same, and finally to both Ulfric and Balgruuf. As they did, the runes glowed once more, and she shivered as tingling spread over her body. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but nevertheless, she was glad when it dissipated.

"Begin the duel," The command came, short and simple.

Kyra and Irileth started circling each other, weapons at the ready, muscles taut. There wasn't a time limit on the duel and neither of them wanted to push the attack without testing out the opposition first.

Footsteps light and steady, Kyra kept her breathing slow and watched Irileth's every movement - when her eyes flickered, when her muscles tensed for a second, when her step was a little shorter than usual. This early in the duel, it was a game of waiting and watching.

Irileth attacked first. She darted in and lunged towards Kyra, who dodged to the side. Irileth attacked once more and Kyra blocked, tremors running along her sword and up her arm. They fell back into circling.

She saw Irileth tense again and take a step forwards for another attack. Kyra leapt forwards at the same time, deflecting Irileth's strike which overextended, and sent a quick feint towards Irileth's knee. Irileth stumbled backwards to avoid it, regaining her footing quickly and easily blocked Kyra's stroke by meeting it with a powerful blow of her own.

Off balance, Kyra almost missed Irileth's following attack and only just managed to get her sword up in time to protect her face. Irileth didn't disengage, instead pressing her sword forwards, towards Kyra's throat. Kyra growled, pushing upwards but despite her increased strength, she was in an awkward stance. She was trying to force her arms upwards from their cramped position, whereas Irileth had the luxury of space and a stable stance.

Making a quick decision, she kicked out at Irileth's knee, making her stagger slightly. Kyra took advantage, twisting to the side and letting the sword sail past her. She had hoped that Irileth wouldn't be able to control the swing and her sword would embed itself in the ground, but she underestimated her.

Irileth managed to prevent it from hitting the ground and swung it to the side, using gravity to fuel it. The sword collided with Kyra's armour in a powerful blow and she was thrown back, falling to the ground, her cloak twisted awkwardly beneath her.

Her side was numb, her armour dented and digging into her side. She groaned from on the ground, waiting for the pain to fade, but was forced to roll to the side to avoid Irileth's second strike. But she wasn't quite quick enough.

Irileth's sword edge pierced a small chink in her armour and immediately pain blossomed in her shoulder. She cried out, teeth gritted as she felt warm blood seeping through her leather armour. A distant part of her mind noted that she needed better quality armour.

Mind indistinct with the pain, she lashed out blindly with one of her swords, catching Irileth by surprise. She felt her sword connect and heard a dull thud beside her - Irileth had fallen to the ground and was now nursing a bleeding arm, face twisted in pain.

They made eye contact in the same instance and they both staggered to their feet. Kyra couldn't afford the luxury of dwelling on her pain and neither could Irileth.

They started circling each other once more, a little warier now. They only attacked in short flurries, exchanging a few blows before backing away again. Neither were willing to engage without seeing a definite weakness. Both of them were breathing heavily, Irileth more than Kyra, and favouring their uninjured side. Kyra kept her injured shoulder twisted away from Irileth, and Irileth did the same.

The crowd were shouting loudly now, wanting action and blood. She ignored them.

She didn't take her eyes from Irileth's form, scanning for any weaknesses she could exploit. She waited. And then the moment came.

Irileth overstepped, stumbling slightly. Her sword lowered. And Kyra lunged.

Irileth blocked her first blow. And her second. And her third. But Kyra didn't let up. She didn't step away, she didn't slow down. Strike after strike, she lunged at Irileth, forcing her to back away as her attacks became faster and faster, a whirlwind of motion and ebony. She ignored the burning pain in her shoulder and the feeling of blood trickling down her side.

Irileth started to tire, no longer able to bring her sword up as quickly to deflect the blows. Kyra smiled viciously, and sent a feint towards Irileth's knee. Irileth, who had grown accustomed to Kyra trying to make contact with every blow, immediately brought her sword down to block it.

Kyra stopped short, reversed her grip, and sent her sword pommel hammering into Irileth's helmet.

Irileth stumbled. Her sword wavered.

Kyra moved forwards again, repeating the action, and Irileth sunk to the floor, sword tumbling from her limp grasp.

She approached Irileth cautiously. Although Irileth was now unarmed, she was still conscious, kneeling on the ground.

"Do you submit?" Kyra asked, her voice clear in the sudden silence as she aimed her sword at Irileth's throat.

Irileth slowly looked at Kyra, face pinched but resigned. Her eyes looked a little unfocused but they were still clear. She nodded. "Yes. I submit."

A deafening sound burst from the crowd.

Kyra stumbled a little, exhaustion and pain catching up with her, and she sunk to the ground alongside Irileth. She could distantly hear one of the judges announcing the outcome of the duel on the edge of her awareness.

Kyra looked over at Irileth, and with the last of her strength, stuck out her hand. Irileth looked at it and paused, before shaking it.

"Thank you," Kyra said tiredly.

Irileth looked a little annoyed, mostly at herself. "As per the terms of our agreement, I will uphold the negotiation," she said formally.

Kyra frowned. "I wasn't suggesting you would do anything other than that."

Irileth still looked annoyed. "Just because you're Nightingale, doesn't mean I'll give you any special treatment."

Kyra opened her mouth to reply, but then suddenly a flurry of people dressed in pristine white robes with cowls covering their faces approached them.

"Both of you will need to be checked by us for injures," one of them said. "You will need to follow us up to Dragonsreach."

Irileth frowned, struggling to her feet. "Can't you just give us a healing potion and be done with it? My job is to protect my Jarl and I cannot do that while I am being checked by __you__."

"It must be done," another one said, not sounding sorry at all. "Your Jarl has agreed to it."

Irileth sighed. "Very well."

Kyra tried to subtly sidle away, spotting Alaedra smiling at her from the border of the dueling section, but she was seized by one of the white figures. "Speed is of the essence, I'm afraid," the figure said. "If either one of you dies, the terms of the agreement will be null and void."

And before Kyra could protest, she was swept away, away from Alaedra.

* * *

In the infirmary in Dragonsreach, they prodded and poked her, analysing both her physical and mental well-being. She understood the necessity of the check-up, but it was still tedious.

Two hours and one healing potion later, she was standing outside Breezehome. Irileth had needed to stay longer than her due to her slight concussion, courtesy of Kyra.

She quietly entered her house, and as she stepped inside, she could see both Alaedra and Adrianne sitting at the table, talking quietly. She smiled at the sight of her two friends.

Alaedra broke into a smile as she jumped up and hugged her. Kyra relaxed, hugging her back.

"Are you okay? Did they heal you? Does anything hurt?" Alaedra asked hurriedly, guiding her to the table. Kyra sat down gratefully, muscles still aching slightly.

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "All I needed was a good healing potion and I was sorted."

"That was good fighting out there," Adrianne said quietly, looking proud. "Although I was a little worried when you ended up on the floor."

She chuckled slightly. "Not one of my finer moments. But at least I still won."

"Fancy celebrating?" Adrianne asked. "I've got a vintage bottle of wine sitting in my cellar just waiting to be drunk."

Kyra grimaced. "As lovely as that sounds, we can't afford to be hungover tomorrow. We've leaving in the morning - Ulfric is finalising the terms of the treaty between Whiterun and Windhelm as we speak. Besides, I'm exhausted."

"I'm not surprised," Alaedra muttered.

Kyra chatted with Adrianne and Kyra for a while longer, before Adrianne bid them goodbye, saying she needed to carry on work in her forge, but as an afterthought, asked if Kyra and Alaedra wanted to help her with creating simple weapons.

Both of them agreed - Kyra already had rudimentary knowledge in __how__ to do it, even if she didn't have any physical experience, and Alaedra wanted to try something new.

Adrianne started off with teaching them the different parts of the forge and created a simple dagger to show them the methods and techniques that went into creating it. Kyra tried to copy her example but couldn't manage to work the metal effectively, and ended up with a gnarled rod of steel. She threw it away in disgust.

Alaedra, however, seemed to pick up the skill quite quickly. Although the dagger she created wasn't flawless, Adrianne admitted it was a very good first attempt.

Adrianne gave Alaedra the dagger to keep, and on the long journey back to Windhelm, Alaedra wouldn't leave it alone. She tossed it between her hands, throwing it up and catching it before twirling it elegantly in her hands. Kyra was afraid she would cut herself, but by the time they finally reached Windhelm, there wasn't a cut to be seen on her hands.

As they passed through the main gates, Ralof rode up to them, his face lit up.

"I've just received a message from the courier - Eveda is in Windhelm," he said. His tone was calm but his face belied his excitement and happiness.

Alaedra smiled. "I told you she would arrive eventually. Are you going to meet her now?"

He nodded. "Yes, and I'll introduce her to Ulfric so she can get started on the initiation. There's a mission planned for around two weeks time so she'll probably be on that."

"I can't wait to meet her," Kyra said politely.

"Well, you probably won't have the chance to until the mission - Ulfric's initiation will probably take up most of her time between now and then."

Alaedra nodded. "Anyway, go and see your soon-to-be fiancee! Don't keep her waiting," she grinned.

Ralof mock-saluted and rode off. Kyra watched him go, before turning to Alaedra.

"Fancy heading to the blacksmiths before we head back to the inn? I could really do with a new set of armour."

Alaedra nodded and they quickly headed to the blacksmith, who greeted them cordially.

"And what are you interested in buying? Armour? Weapons? I've something for everyone," the smith said, pausing from his work.

"Armour," Kyra said. "Something good quality, but light - I want be able to move around easily."

"If you come inside then, I've got a nice selection."

Kyra and Alaedra followed him inside, where he gestured to several sets of light armour displayed on mannequins. "I see the leather armour doesn't meet your standards, so I'd recommend either elven or glass armour. The elven is strong, but it hasn't got anything on the glass armour, and you won't see a better price anywhere," he bargained.

She nodded thoughtfully. "Do you have different sizes in the glass armour?"

He looked delighted that she was showing interest in the more expensive armour. "But of course. You're welcome to try all the sizes on to see what best fits you."

Half an hour later, she was paying for the armour. The price was steep but she had enough wages from being captain of the Stormcloaks, and she knew it was worth it.

When they arrived back at the inn, dead on their feet from the travelling, she barely had enough energy to place the glass armour in a chest before she collapsed on the bed, limbs refusing to move. Alaedra had already given in to her tiredness and was sprawled on the bed, snoring softly.

Kyra smiled, and then allowed sleep to take her.

* * *

"What do you fancy doing then?" Kyra asked Alaedra as they strolled along the main street. "We've got a break from all Stormcloak duties for the next week. At least, until we're heading off on that mission to take over fort Neugrad."

Alaedra hummed in thought. "I guess we could go exploring Windhelm. I mean, we haven't explored it properly yet. The only parts of it we actually know are the main streets, Ulfric's palace and the inn. We've both been so busy training we haven't had the time to look around any more than that."

She nodded. When she had arrived, she'd been curious about exploring the deeper parts of the ancient city, knowing that much of it was steeped in history and blood. But as Alaedra had admitted, both of them had been preoccupied.

"Come on then! Before the next snow storm hits." With that, Alaedra darted off into the nearest alley, long strands of her hair gently lifted up by the wind. Kyra followed at a more sedate pace and caught up with her in the depths of the narrow street.

Despite the darkness of the alley, it had a certain peaceful feel to it, as though it was far removed from the chaotic carnival of humanity. A gentle coat of snow dusted the floor, delicate and ethereal - the buildings on either side were so sheer that only snow unaffected by the wind could reach the ground.

She gently trailed her fingers along the wall of a building, feeling every bump and crack in the surface. It looked strong, but it was only when she glanced closer that she could see it was on the verge of crumbling away completely - the mortar holding the bricks together was worn away by time and loneliness. She idly wondered whether anyone still lived within the walls, or whether they had long abandoned it and left their home to fall apart.

She turned to face Alaedra. "So, where do you want to go?" she asked.

Alaedra gave a half shrug. "I don't know. It doesn't matter!"

She smiled at the clear excitement painted on Alaedra's face, and let Alaedra take her hand and gently tug her through the streets.

They soon lost themselves in the intricate labyrinth of twisting allies and cobbled lanes, meandering like flowing rivers. Despite the hovering war and animosity, the deeper streets felt untouched from such worldly sorrows - these were the streets that inventors and dreamers took, their minds burning with furious curiosity and endless hope that was as far and untouchable as the stars. The wind carried the memory of distant skies and the wilderness was almost tangible - it was the wolf's howl and the hawk's cry and the gentle rustling of new leaves amongst the stone and ice of the city.

The soaring melody of a violin flowed from a collapsing window, the notes wavering in the air and harmonizing with the wind as though it could fix this broken city. Her fingers itched - she longed for the feel of the smoothness of mahogany against her fingers, and the elegant strings that could form such discordance and such harmony.

They returned to the inn as the sun slowly started to set, the sky lighting up with fire. Faces red from the cold and fingers turning numb and cheeks aching from laughter, they stumbled through the door, adventure and tiredness in their eyes.

Her body was cold but she felt as though she was on fire.

Later that night, when her mind was racing too fast for her to sleep, she stole through the room to peer out the jagged window, looking at the sprawling city below. Silence hovered in the air, comforting and soothing, but she could see flickers of motion in the streets - the city never slept, even in the depth of midnight.

Somehow comforted by the sight, she stayed there a while, hands gripping the edge of the window frame. When tiredness began to creep up on her, laying gentle fingers on her eyelids, she turned around. Then she stopped in her tracks.

A narrow beam of moonlight - previously blocked by her body - filtered through the room, casting light on the dancing dust motes and ending its journey on Alaedra.

Alaedra slept peacefully, curled on her side as usual with a gentle fist gripping the covers, breaths flowing through the room. The moonlight surrounded her in a halo of silver brilliance, causing shades of colour to leap from her hair and soft shadows to appear on her face, shed by her sharp cheekbones. Her lips moved slightly in her sleep, mouthing words only Alaedra knew, the delicate softness and symmetry of her cupids bow lit up by the moon.

Kyra's breath caught in her throat as she stood, transfixed by the sight. She saw Alaedra's beauty, her gentle kindness, sharp humour, curiosity, kindness, acceptance - she saw all of Alaedra as she drank in the image, fixing this moment in her mind forever.

She tensed as Alaedra stirred, her head turning to the side as a smile graced her features. She murmured something in her sleep, too soft for Kyra to hear, even with her Dov soul. And then Alaedra said it again, the word caressing her lips before escaping.

" _ _Kyra__."

And just like that, she knew she had fallen in love with Alaedra.

It didn't feel like a revelation. There was no fanfare of trumpets, no soaring music, no internal conflict or gnashing of teeth.

It settled into her, falling into place as though it had done so a million times before. It felt like coming home.

She didn't share her insight with Alaedra the next morning. She wanted to cherish the purity of the relationship as it was, with no complicated feelings or misunderstandings. For the time being, she wanted to protect the feeling, keep it safe.

They continued to explore the city the next day, and the days after, sneaking glances at one another and blushing when their hands brushed. They mingled with the crowds of people - a patchwork of faded colour that moved and breathed with life. The market square was filled with the voices of humanity - people bartering, buying, selling.

And when the frantic motion grew too much, all they had to do was turn down an alley - perhaps one illuminated by narrow streams of weak sun, or open and spacious with clothes lines strung between buildings as colourful clothing flapped in the wind, or dark and secretive, the shadows hiding whispered secrets and concealed footsteps. And they suddenly became surrounded by an entirely different atmosphere, calm and silent as though suspended in time - a world inside a world.

It was fragment of motionless infinity within a constellation of chaotic lives and hollow worries.


	20. Raze to the ground

**Listen to 'bleeding out' by imagine dragons when reading this chapter. Trust me on this - it completes the chapter.**

 **Warning: Dark themes**

* * *

"Here's the plan," Ralof said as he rode alongside them, the shadows of trees casting dappled darkness on his face.

They were en route to their next mission - an Imperial fort called Fort Neugrad - as Ulfric had deemed it a strategic striking point to start applying more pressure on the Imperials. Ralof and Kyra were both commanders on this mission as Galmar had been conducting surveys on the states of the mobile camps scattered across Skyrim. For Ralof, this mission - if successful - would mean promotion.

"Go on then," Kyra prompted him.

"We shouldn't be too far from the fort now - a few days of hard riding and we'll be there. The most important thing you need to know is that we'll be outnumbered by three to one."

"Couldn't Ulfric spare any more troops?" Alaedra asked, sitting comfortably on Alizay and feeding him an apple.

Ralof shook his head. "No, Ulfric's got too many missions on the go at the moment. We're stretched thin, even with the constant influx of new recruits. But anyway. We're outnumbered on this mission. Fortunately for us, there's a secret entrance around the side of the fort. If Ulfric's map is correct, it shouldn't be heavily guarded, and will lead directly to the prisons in the fort. We've got quite a few men locked inside.

"And that's why I'm going to need you two to sneak into the fort through the hidden entrance. Out of all of us, you're among the smallest and quietest, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. You can free our men, and attack the fort from the inside. At the same time, the rest of us will attack from the outside. The duel attack should give us the edge we need against the superior numbers."

Kyra hummed in thought. "Yes, that attack should work. It's dependent on me and Alaedra sneaking in successfully, but we shouldn't have a problem, as long as we avoid the sentries." A cold feeling crept over her, and she shivered.

"Can you guys do me a favour?" Ralof asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "Can you keep an eye on Eveda for me? This is her first mission and she's still a little inexperienced. And I have a feeling this mission won't go too smoothly."

Alaedra smiled. "Of course we will. We won't let anything happen to her."

Kyra nodded in agreement, able to make out the back of Eveda's head a few soldiers ahead. Despite only knowing her for a few days, Kyra found herself liking the softly-spoken woman.

"Good," Ralof said. "Because as soon as this mission is over, I plan to give her this." From his pocket, he extracted the engagement ring he had previously shown them. "I was thinking it over, and I figured now is as good a time as any."

Kyra smiled softly. "You two are perfectly suited to each other, Ralof. Spend a good life with her."

Ralof nodded. "I will. We'll always be together." He looked over at Eveda and smiled, a pure smile. "I know we will."

* * *

Kyra shivered as the coldness of dawn shared her icy embrace. The group of Stormcloaks was crouched a short distance away from Fort Neugrad, talking quietly. Ralof had deemed it best that they attack the fort before the sun had risen and most of the Imperials would still be asleep.

"You two," he whispered. Kyra and Alaedra glanced over at him. "You'd best get moving now. Avoid the sentries and once you attack from the inside, we'll attack from the outside. Their numbers will have nothing on us."

Kyra grinned at his unwavering faith. "Good luck Ralof," she said.

He saluted her, mirth sparkling in his eyes, and Kyra and Alaedra crept away, taking care to avoid the brittle leaves underfoot. Trees towered above them, standing like watching sentinels in the night and a sense of foreboding settled over her. She ignored it.

They reached a large rock and she leapt off it, cloak flowing behind her, landing in a muffled crouch on the narrow path that wound its way towards the fort. She could see the distant silhouette of a sentry far to the left, the area around him illuminated in a halo by his torch. There was another sentry to the right of them, between Kyra and the hidden entrance, and he was gradually making his way towards them.

Kyra and Alaedra hurriedly took cover in the shadows shed by the trees, and they crept along, communicating only in gestures.

The flickering light of the patrolling soldier's torch break through the mist of dawn much sooner than expected. She hurriedly pulled Alaedra down beside her and they crouched in the deep shadow of the rocks, barely breathing. Adrenalin shot through her and she trembled, feeling the harsh granite graze her shoulder and the damp coldness of dew seep in. The soldier paced past, his guttering torch casting dancing illusions on the trees.

Alaedra backed off slightly, clinging to the rocks. She was completely shrouded, but Kyra was still discernible - she was hanging by the edge of the shadows. She drew back too, sinking further into the darkness and feeling it melt around her, but it seemed she hadn't been quick enough, for the soldier paused and turned his head in their direction, frowning. He started moving towards them with steady steps - as regular as the ticking of a clock - counting down the seconds. They would be discovered soon if he continued, and she couldn't risk using the thu'um. Any sound, even a faint whisper, would cause him to raise the alarm.

As he paced closer, Kyra hurriedly tapped out a signal to Alaedra and Alaedra's hand lightly settled upon her sword in preparation, caressing the pommel. They waited until the soldier was close before acting. Using the cover of the darkness, Kyra crept behind him as Alaedra approached him from the front.

The action of taking him down silently should have gone smoothly, as sleek as water flowing over stones or wind whispering in trees - natural, instinctive.

Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was a more sinister reason. Maybe it was simple foolishness on Kyra's part - and certainly, she would later blame herself. But for whatever reason, the soldier glanced around as Kyra was creeping up behind him. Shock rippled across his features.

It was difficult to say who was more surprised in that instance, but Kyra recovered her senses first. There wasn't enough time to draw her swords so she swung her hand in a vicious punch, catching him on the nose. A satisfying crunch filled the air and the soldier went down but hadn't been knocked unconscious. Through the blood pouring out of his nose, he managed to yell, his voice briefly shattering the brittle silence.

"Attack! Attack!"

Alaedra smoothly struck him with crackling lightening. He convulsed silently, eyes rolling back into his head, then fell to the ground as Alaedra looked over at her, crease lines on her forehead.

There was a pause. Nothing happened. Nothing moved. A moment hung in calm, crystalline brilliance, the gathering violence slowed to a dream. Kyra held her breath as the moment hovered over her.

And then a bell started tolling from deep within the fort, the sound low and profound. The moment scattered, dissipating in the air as the violence rushed forwards and the fort came alive with hurried calls and readied weapons.

A distant voice carried on the wind, signaling the arrival of a swarm of arrows whistling towards them, deadly and swift.

Alaedra pushed Kyra behind her and raised her palms. A glow briefly hovered over them, illuminating her face in a gentle wash of gold before intense light shot from her hands, sculpting to form a ward pressing tight against them.

The arrows clattered harmlessly against it but as the volley continued, Kyra could see her face becoming paler and paler with the effort. And then there were no more arrows and she sagged, breath whistling through her teeth.

Kyra readied herself for another attack but there was none. Instead, the Imperials seemed to be looking away from them. Looking towards-

Through the lightening gloom, she saw the group of Stormcloaks attacking the barricades in an attempt to get into the castle. Ralof was at their head, his axe hacking away at the wooden defences and splintering them.

She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, a sickness in her abdomen. She knew instantly that Ralof had started the attack in order to save both her and Alaedra. Now, they were trying to take the fort in the worst possible way, horribly outnumbered and unprepared for this change of tactic.

She met Alaedra's eye and neither of them needed to say anything. As one, they hurried forwards, keeping low in case of any stray arrows but the soldier's focus was on the main force of Stormcloaks.

The Stormcloaks had managed to break through the defences and flooded into the courtyard of the fort, but as Kyra and Alaedra joined them, they could see they were already struggling. The Imperials had the advantage of height and although some of the Stormcloaks were trying to climb the stairs, they were easily being killed.

She paused, turning to Alaedra. She wanted to say something as she saw war and fire reflected in Alaedra's eyes and her lips curled into a grim smile. Something meaningful. But her mind disobeyed.

"Fight well." __Xuth! That's a stupid thing to say.__

But it seemed that Alaedra didn't care because her mouth quirked upwards and she hesitantly pulled Kyra in for a hug. She froze for a second but soon relaxed, feeling Alaedra's warm body press against hers and her heart beat a steady rhythm. The feeling was shattered when Alaedra pulled back and shared a look with her.

"Together?" Kyra asked, the words seeping with finality.

"Together."

She threw herself into the fray, Alaedra falling in at her side. They fought and defended as one, Alaedra casting fireball after fireball and using her sword when an Imperials managed to dodge them, and Kyra using the same method with her swords and shouts. Her throat began to ache after a while but she persevered on.

An abrupt rush of coordinated attacks from the Imperials swept Kyra away from Alaedra. Her sudden defenseless back made her feel vulnerable - she missed Alaedra's familiar presence but didn't have time to dwell on it. Her thoughts brushed against her mind, but they barely registered as she steadily fought her way up the stairs to higher ground.

She felt a sudden searing pain in her leg - a soldier had managed to score a light hit against her thigh. It wasn't serious but her leg shook whenever she put weight on it and the blood slowly trickling down her skin distracted her. She narrowly missed another blow from a weapon that would have taken her head clean off and smoothly struck her assailant in the chest. Her sword connected with his iron chest plate and a clear sound briefly vibrated in the air, before it was drowned out by wrenching screams and ugly sword clashes.

The air felt oppressive as she dodged attacks, like it was trying to inhibit her movements. A storm must be coming - she could sense the stillness and heaviness of the air despite the ferocious motion that was quivering around her.

She reached the top of the wall. There were few Imperials there - most of them were fighting the Stormcloaks on lower levels.

She used __slow time__ , feeling the comforting shout soothe her burning throat. Imperials soldiers moved sluggishly, their actions like they were wading through thick mud. She easily moved around them, striking them down and avoiding their clumsy swords.

A sudden lull gave her time to pause and catch her breath. The taste of blood and smoke filled her mouth and she gagged but she didn't dare breath through her nose. The sickening stench of violence and death would be rife in the air.

Instinctively, she glanced around the fort, taking in the flow of the fight. She only caught a few smudges of blue against the gleaming metal of the polished Imperial armour. Alaedra was holding her own against some Imperials and Ralof was…running?

In the courtyard far below, he was sprinting as fast as he could, not even bothering to engage any soldiers he passed. Kyra followed his gaze and saw Eveda struggling against a group of four Imperials. Even as Kyra watched, Eveda was disarmed and her weapon clattered useless to the floor. An Imperial raised his sword above his head, his mouth drawn into a snarl, and begun the steady motion down. And then Ralof was there, his axe shining as storm clouds gathered above.

A close movement of air forced Kyra to confront her own situation and she had to throw herself to the floor to avoid the weapon that followed soon after. She shouldn't have been so distracted that she forgot to pay attention to her own surroundings. But she couldn't stop her worry for Ralof thudding in her as she disarmed her opponent and kicked him over the wall.

As quickly as she could, she fought against yet another flow of Imperials who rushed to meet her. Her throat burned with excessive use of the voice but she didn't care. She didn't have time to worry about fighting with elegance - her technique changed to become brutal and efficient. It worked.

She used unrelenting force over and over again, sending the soldiers scattering and giving her enough room to take them down one by one. Her throat burned and a metallic taste filled her mouth.

Once all the soldiers on top of the wall were lying prone on the ground, and she scanned to make sure there weren't any others near, she cast her glance over the battlefield, seeing Stormcloaks falling to the numbers of the Imperials.

She turned to Ralof. A breath of relief escaped her as she saw him kick the last Imperial to the ground. He turned to face Eveda and with her enhanced eyesight, she could see him smile. He was looking at Eveda, his face filled with relief and happiness. His smile was so full of joy, so pure, as though he was seeing the world for the first time as he gazed into Eveda's eyes.

And then Kyra looked behind him. She jolted and opened her mouth, to push Ralof to the side with the thu'um, to shout a warning, to do __something.__ But she had used the thu'um too much.

Her throat constricted and burned as she coughed up blood. Her mouth moved but nothing came out. She couldn't do anything.

She watched, helpless, as the pure smile on Ralof's face faltered, replaced with stunned pain. And together, they looked down at the stained tip of the sword that emerged from his chest.

Eveda backed away, her face agonised as the soldier behind Ralof grinned in malice and yanked the sword out savagely.

Ralof stumbled and turned to face his assailant, blood dripping from his mouth. The Imperial drew back his fist and punched him hard on the jaw. His head snapped back and he fell to his knees, his back bowed and head hanging.

Kyra couldn't help but be glad. She knew it would have killed him to see, behind him, a second Imperial soldier come up to Eveda and draw his dagger across her throat in a brutal gesture. It would have killed him to know that as she collapsed on the floor, her mouth open and choking, she had reached out a hand to his bowed back in desperation. And it would have killed him to know that his love, the one he was hoping to marry, died not one metre from him and he could do nothing to save her.

Kyra rushed back into herself, reeling in shock as the events caught up with her. Hurrying to the wall, she judged the distance down. It was too far to jump without injuring herself - she could tell by the burning in her throat she still couldn't use the thu'um - but she tensed herself for it anyway.

Luck wasn't on her side. Three Imperial soldiers spotted her, standing by the edge of the wall and charged over. She cursed, trying to fight them quickly but her panic made her tense up and soon she had several small wounds scattered over her body. Desperation lent her strength and soon the Imperials were dead or unconscious and that was all that mattered.

She made the mistake of glancing at Ralof again and saw the Imperial was talking to him, his mouth moving in vicious glee. Leg shaking in pain, she hauled herself onto the wall and cast her hearing out to Ralof. The simple words carried, eventually reaching her.

"Beg. Beg for me."

Ralof shook his head and spat at the feet of the Imperial whose face twisted in rage. He grabbed at Ralof, and jabbed his fingers into the sword wound. Ralof howled, his eyes clenched shut but refused to say anything. The Imperial looked behind him and a grin formed on his face as he shoved Ralof up and spun him around. Kyra could pinpoint the exact time where Ralof saw Eveda, blood dripping from her throat and her hair a halo around her face.

Ralof screamed. It felt like a knife had been slammed into her as the harrowing sound carried high into the air, full of despairing anger and desperate agony. He sagged to his knees again, all strength drained from his body. His face was twisted but his eyes stayed fixed on his love.

Kyra abandoned all rational though as fire swirled within her. Taking a breath, she stepped out from the wall and into the empty space. She spread her arms for balance but the ground rushed towards her and she hit it hard.

Rolling to take away some of the impact, she escaped serious injury but something clicked in her knee as she sprawled inelegantly on the floor. She gasped in pain. But there was no time.

In the distance, now on the same level as her, she could see the Imperial and his friend crouched over Eveda's body. Ralof was on the ground, propped up on his elbows as the puddle of blood steadily grew around him. And he was __begging.__

"Please! No. Don't touch her. No, please!"

With a sickening jolt, Kyra realised the Imperials both had their daggers out now, one of which was stained with fresh blood. Eveda's blood. They were forcing Ralof to watch as they mutilated his love, and the anguish was painted clear on his face.

Ignoring the spiking pain in her knee, she sprinted across her courtyard but her injuries made her slow. Sweat dripped from her brow as she forced her legs onwards, her body shaking.

She crashed into the Imperials, who were unprepared for an attack. They were too focused on torturing Ralof and Eveda. It was over quickly - all it needed was two slices and their bodies kneeled over in the dust, weapons falling from their hands.

She turned her attention to Ralof and darted forwards, catching him as he swayed and pitched forwards.

But he shrugged himself out of her arms, and with what little strength he had left, starting crawling towards Eveda, stretching out his arm and entwining their hands together in one final gesture.

Ralof looked at her, his normally bright and mirthful eyes filled with pain that didn't belong. It shouldn't belong. His eyes were tinged with hidden accusations, that she was to blame for this. And she knew he was right to blame her.

Then he smiled. It was tainted with regret but it was a smile. One that she didn't deserve. His mouth moved.

"Thank you."

Kyra looked at him, unable to say anything. But the question was clear on her face.

"For trying to save everyone. E-Even if you couldn't. I-" He broke off, gasping for breath as his face turned white.

Her throat recovered enough to speak. She finally found words, but they were meaningless and he deserved more.

"Don't speak. Save your energy."

"What's the-" He broke off again. "What's the point? You know h-how bad it is."

She shook her head. "Fireblood, there's a point to __everything__ ," she growled. "You're going to live. And take that Oblivion-cursed look off your face. That look…that look of acceptance. Just stop it. Just. Don't." She took in a shaking breath. "I'm going to heal you. Hold still."

She tried to centre her thoughts, ignoring the pain in her throat. She needed to concentrate otherwise it wouldn't work - there wouldn't be enough focus or power.

" _ _Gron ahraan!"__

The word exploded out of her in desperation but nothing happened. The blood seemed to slow for a second, before it started flowing faster and faster, drenching the ground with its crimson vibrancy.

She tried again. And again. It didn't work. There wasn't enough power and she wasn't focused enough. She couldn't heal him without learning the full shout and that would require hours of meditation, if the Greybeards were to be believed. There just wasn't enough time.

Ralof simply looked at her, the expression evident on his face. "Save Skyrim. For me. For Eveda." His voice broke and tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked at Eveda. And he smiled. That golden smile that only Eveda could bring out of him and it seemed that even death couldn't stop that.

But when Ralof looked back at her, his smile was gone and so was his acceptance, his bravery. Fear had replaced it, slowly creeping across his face like a shadow. She swallowed thickly.

"This it it," he repeated. "I'm going to die. I-I don't want to die."

"I can't do anything. Oh Gods, Ralof, I can't do anything. I'm sorry."

Ralof was choking now, blood dribbling from his mouth and pooling on the cold ground. His body was shaking, death tremors seizing his muscles in a vice-like grip. Kyra's heart shuddered and she wanted to do something. To do anything. But all she could do was stay by his side as he struggled for breath and the crimson stain spread around his body. And all the while, he held the hand of his love, never once letting go.

"I-I…" Words couldn't escape from his trembling lips but the fear was shining bright in his eyes.

"It's alright," Kyra said. "Hush. You don't need to speak, you don't need to say anything. I understand." But even as she spoke the words, she could see that Ralof was too far gone to understand them.

She bowed her head, clenching her eyes shut. Maybe it was the cowardly way out. She didn't care.

"No, you don't understand." The whisper came from Ralof, the words clear and concise despite his earlier inability to speak, and she stiffened in shock, eyes flying open.

"It's okay. It's okay to just let go," she found herself saying through numb lips, even as something tore inside her at saying those words.

"Darkness comes for us all," Ralof rasped, his voice brittle and layered, and she felt a chill. His voice was ominously similar to the captain's as he spoke the dying words, killed at Kyra's hand.

And then breath failed him completely and he convulsed on the ground, his face flecked with blood. Something fell out of his pocket. Kyra put her hands on his shoulders and held him and looked into his eyes as he gradually stopped moving. His eyes glazed over and his skin turned waxen as Ralof disappeared. A corpse replaced him. And her thoughts stopped.

She kneeled beside his body, feeling the hard ground pressingly painfully against her knees. The sounds of battle faded around her as she looked, just looked at him, her mind numb.

An old saying drifted back to her. __Eyes are the windows to the soul__. But his eyes were empty as they stared at the gathering storm above. No laughter in them now. No trace of Ralof. He was gone.

A word caught her attention. A name. Alaedra. She looked up.

Alaedra was sprawled on the ground some distance away. Blood was pooling from a wound on her head but her chest was still rising. Her eyes were closed.

Surrounding her were two Imperial soldiers, laughing and leering at her. Sounds of their voices floated towards her over the noise of the fighting. She vaguely noticed that there were very few Stormcloaks soldiers standing.

"Well, isn't this a pretty one. I'll have fun carving her up." An Imperial twirled a long knife in his hands. "Such as shame to ruin such a lovely face…but she'll have much more to worry about soon!" He laughed, a raucous, grating sound as he lay his knife across Alaedra's face and mimed carving a gruesome smile across her skin. Alaedra's pure, unblemished skin.

The other soldier stepped over Alaedra and looked down. "Why aren't you smiling love? Don't worry, you will be soon. Once I'm through with you." He chuckled at his own joke, gaze clouding with lust.

Kyra looked back at Ralof. An object lay by his side and she picked it up with numb curiosity. It was a ring - an engagement ring. The diamond glittered coldly, mockingly.

There was an emptiness inside her, like she was hollow. She needed something to fill it. She felt as though she would drift away otherwise, as though there was nothing holding her down. The hollowness spread through her body as her face stayed frozen in a mask and her breath didn't come.

The first drop of rain fell on Ralof's forehead, seemingly in slow motion. She watched the droplets scatter in the air, sparkling like shards of glass. She looked back at Alaedra. Pure Alaedra, soon to be tainted.

And fire rushed through her as the clouds above opened. The flames filled the hollowness deep within her, roaring through her body until all she knew was fire and rage and fury. Water poured down like tears as lightening cracked the sky.

With an animalistic roar, she charged towards the soldiers in a whirlwind of fury, unleashing __unrelenting force__. They scattered like scared animals, slipping on the wet ground. She launched herself towards the Imperials, swords raised high and teeth bared and eyes like fire. She easily sliced into them, enjoying the pain she inflicted as red ribbons appeared on their skin. And when their bodies fell to the ground, mutilated and bleeding, it still wasn't enough.

Snarling, she started towards the other soldiers who were beginning to realise they had a new threat. They had barely turned to face her before she was among them, leaping and dancing as she used her swords to cause as much pain as she could. They were a shimmering arc of ebony, elegant and deadly. The soldiers fell before it, hands raised in futility, only enraging her more. She wanted to tear them apart with her teeth.

Gashes and slices littered their bodies as they stumbled away from her, their eyes filled with fear and terror.

She reveled in it and laughed as the rain lanced down and her swords forced light to fade from eyes. Bodies of fallen soldiers crunched underfoot and it still wasn't enough.

She attacked faster and faster, her deadly dance of swords and Thu'um both throwing men back. None of their weapons seemed to touch her as she spun among them, enjoying their pain and wishing she could take to the stormy skies with her wings.

And suddenly she ran out of prey. She whirled on the spot, growling in annoyance as she searched for something else to hunt through the slicing rain. But the courtyard was empty save for the fallen bodies of the dead.

The fire gradually faded from her, slowly at first and then quicker. Her strength drained and she staggered, barely catching herself in time. Sense returned to her as the rage cleared and her eyes darted wide as she took in the carnage surrounding her. The destruction she had caused. And enjoyed.

Bile rose in her throat and she sunk to the ground, feeling her throat burn as her food made a reappearance on the stones. It mingled with the blood and rain and she gagged again but her stomach was empty. Her eyes watered.

A footstep from behind made her stiffen and leap to her feet. And then she wished she hadn't.

Alaedra was standing there, eyes wide and face pale. Her hair was wet with both rain and blood but she didn't seem to care. Fear lingered at the back of her gaze and her face was drawn into a mask of disbelief. Kyra couldn't bear to see it.

Instead, she pushed past her, her legs shaking and weak. She barely managed to get to Ralof before she collapsed, feeling the slicing rain plaster her hair to her scalp.

Alaedra stayed where she was. Scared to come any closer. Good. It was better that she stay away now.

The emptiness of before seemed like a distant dream. Everything hurt now, the pain throbbing in tune with her heart - her traitorous heart, so filled with anger that it no longer seemed part of her. But it was. It always had been. She could still feel it - the roaring fire that was so willing, so eager to obey her fury.

She bent forwards, hugging herself. Her fingers dug into her arms, forming crescents of blood. She didn't care. They would heal with time. Time wasn't kind enough to heal anything else.

She gasped out a desperate breath, choking on the sickening smell of death - a cloying smell, like fetid meat, that left her breathless as it rushed into her nose and down her throat and into her blood, tainting her with the toxic discordance of violence. It seeped into every part of her, leaking along her veins, until the old Kyra faded and something new stood in its place - a being stained by blood and fury, a being responsible for the massacre around her.

She bowed her head, feeling the rain wash away the blood as it dripped in rivulets down her face. But she knew the blood had gone deeper than that - it was embedded in her skin, etched into her body, and it wouldn't go, it wouldn't be forgotten about.

Pain filled her and she wanted to cry out, to give voice to her agony, to feel the words scrape along her throat. She needed to make the world listen to her.

But the sound got tangled in her mouth, it got caught and twisted and she couldn't talk, she couldn't speak, she couldn't move. Perhaps if she didn't move, she could fade from this place, becoming a nameless ghost, a mere memory of someone who used to be here.

She tried to scream.

A pitiful whimper emerged instead as the tears finally came, falling fast as the rain started to slow.


	21. Falling into the past

She was running. Breath tore itself from her throat. Her muscles burned as she leapt over a fallen tree. Blood dripped from her wounds. Her heart pounded. An ache. Deep inside. Her legs shook and she wanted to collapse. But she carried on. She carried on running. She had to get away.

But you can't outrun memories.

A creeping plant caught her foot and she was sent tumbling to the ground. Her injuries whimpered in protest but she welcomed the pain as pinpricks of fire scurried over her body. This pain was better than the alternative.

She lay there. She was looking up, watching as the storm clouds dissipated to reveal an unblemished sky.

Her energy had faded away, leaving her limp and tired. She couldn't even move her head. The dizzying panic she had fended off for so long started to engulf her. Her mind was yelling at her, telling her to move, to run, to escape the memories. But she was too tired. And the memories came swooping down.

* * *

 _ _She was fourteen. She was crouching in the shadow of her childhood home as bandits swarmed through her village. Flames licked the air and people screamed. People she knew. Friends, neighbours, family. Her muscles tensed. She wanted to help them. But her cold logic won and she stayed hidden, her heart tearing a path through her chest.__

 _ _She saw her father stand defiantly against the bandit leader. He spoke. He was a man of peace, of words, and had no interest in the world of fighting and cruelty. But that didn't stop the bandit leader from running him through with his sword and laughing as he fell to the ground. Kyra stayed where she was and shook.__

 _ _She saw her mother scream and grab the nearest weapon. A wooden staff. She was a fighter, a warrior, and was fueled by rage and love. But that didn't stop the bandits from disarming her with their sheer numbers and throwing her to the floor, wounded but alive. Kyra shoved her fist in her mouth.__

 _ _She saw her sister run out of her own hiding place, throwing herself at the bandits who jeered and struck her across the chest with their weapons. Her body fell alongside her mother's.__

 _ _Her mother tried to crawl towards her sister, trailing a crimson line, but the bandit leader stood up behind her and with an effortless motion that belied the finality of it, drove his sword through her mother's back. She collapsed, her fingers brushing against her sister's lifeless hand.__

 _ _Kyra screamed silently, blood streaming down her arm from bite marks on her fist. Darkness brushed against her sight and the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes were the bodies of everyone she had ever known.__

* * *

She struggled for breath. It caught in her throat as she trembled. Everything was spiraling out of-

* * *

 _ _She was lonely. She was staggering through a forest somewhere. Cyrodil? Hammerfel? She didn't know. It didn't really matter. She had run as fast as she could, escaping the memories that lingered in Skyrim, but they were still hovering at the edge of her mind. They wouldn't leave her alone. It didn't matter where she went. And now she was lost and tired and on the verge of giving up.__

 _ _She gave up. Strength drained from her and she wobbled, sinking to the ground. The grass was soft against her skin as she lay curled on the floor. Her eyes closed and she felt the sun warming her cheeks. Time passed. She had no way of knowing how long but she didn't care.__

 _ _Footsteps sounded in the distance. She instinctively tensed for a second, a natural response to anything unknown, but then relaxed. There was no point in fighting or running anymore.__

 _ _The footfall drew closer and she waited patiently. A voice spoke. A distant section of her mind knew the language was traditional Argonian - Jel, the language of which was mostly composed of grunts and squeaks. It was foreign and unfamiliar and she stayed curled up in a ball. Tears trickled through her long eyelashes.__

 _ _And then she was suddenly swung gently into the air. She gasped in surprise and opened her eyes. A reptilian face greeted her but the expression was kind and the tone was soothing even if the words were unknown.__

 _ _The Argonian started walking, still carrying her in his scaled hands. Kyra considered trying to escape but the Argonian seemed kind and her body was too tired to fight. The swinging motion calmed her and she slowly fell asleep.__

 _ _The Argonian took her to his home in the middle of a forest. He cared for her, fed her and supplied her with overly large clothes. The language was a barrier between them so as Kyra recovered, they spoke in gestures and tones.__

 _ _He taught her how to hunt and how to use the land and how to track animals. Kyra taught him how to cook and how to barter for the best prices.__

 _ _He often used to travel to the nearest town, exchanging animal pelts for supplies and would come back late in the night. Kyra would stay up, waiting for him. Until one night, when he didn't return.__

 _ _She went out searching for him. The forest was different after dark, the trees like towering gravestones. She spent the whole night looking for him, and the day after. She didn't want to give up on the person she owed her life to for the past few months.__

 _ _She found his body in a stream outside a bear cave. The bear was dead, a dagger in its throat, and the Argonian's body was covered with claw marks. She stayed with him and buried him in the forest, sheltered by the trees he loved. And then she started walking.__

* * *

control, a swirl of colours, memories, people. Nothing made sense. She was falling, a dizzying, unfathomable fall. She clenched her fists and felt-

* * *

 _ _She was free. The haunting nightmares had gone and she discovered a love of travelling and discovering places. Untouched, beautiful places. Blackmarsh, Elsweyr, Valenwood. She travelled to each of them and learned as she did.__

 _ _She leant the art of climbing and how to read rock faces from a ranger in Valenwood. A knight in Cyrodil taught her how to use dual wielded swords. She found a talent for learning languages in High Rock and a Breton master taught her how to speak the many dialects of Tamriel.__

 _ _She wandered where she wanted, never staying in the same place for long. She met many people and found friends.__

 _ _She read books as she wanted, practiced training hawks and discovered she couldn't sing or use magic to save her life. She was finally free and the memories of her past had faded.__

* * *

fingernails sink into her skin, blood running in rivulets down her wrists. Her mouth was open in a silent scream. She shut her eyes to escape the-

* * *

 _ _She was Nightingale. People had warned her against travelling to Morrowind with tales of the bleak and inhospitable terrain, but despite that, or perhaps because of it, she decided to travel there.__

 _ _And she fell in love with it. Even the Ashlands had a certain desolate beauty to them, and once the people got past the fact she was an outlander, they accepted her as one of their own. The old days of discrimination had faded and most Dunmer welcomed the new talents and ideas that foreigners brought. She joined as many guilds as she could, and rose through the ranks.__

 _ _Rumours came from inland of a renegade Ashlander who had wronged the Daedric Prince Hircine. People whispered of revenge from Hircine, but Kyra paid no attention to it. She was too busy carrying out tasks for the Fighters Guild and had just reached the rank of Protector when the first incident happened.__

 _ _It was a seemingly small event, just a guar reverting to its animalistic nature and attacking its owner. It had happened a few times over the years and no one worried too much, even when the owner had been killed by it. And then it happened again. And again.__

 _ _Suddenly, reports streamed in of horrific animal attacks, both domestic animals turning savage, or wild animals descending upon packs of travellers and tearing them to pieces. People started to panic. Plantations that had relied upon the brute force of guar or the leather of bull netch's closed down. Kwama became hostile and attacked their owners when their eggs were collected. The strength of silt striders - previously unknown - sent homes crumbling__ _ _to the ground.__

 _ _Morrowind was a country built on the might of animals. And now they were turning against them.__

 _ _Trade stopped, food sources diminished and people started attacking each other. As though that would help the problem. Buildings and homes crumbled.__

 _ _People fled from one town to the next, trying to escape an enemy that was everywhere. But that only increased the deaths. Massive sea creatures overturned boats, sending sailors tumbling to their watery graves, and the silt striders attacked on sight. Those that were too poor to pay the mage guild's fee of travelling ventured through the country side. No one saw them again.__

 _ _It was pure luck that one of the Fighter's Guild's assignments carried her into the Ashlands during the chaos. And it was pure luck that she stumbled across the renegade Ashlander who had wronged Hircine. He latched__ _ _onto her as the first person who would hear him out and told his story.__

 _ _He had stolen a ring from Hircine, a source of his power and had abused it. Seeing his mistake too late, he begged Hircine to forgive him but Hircine decided that the Dunmer people had grown too comfortable in their way of living and turned their backs on him. He sent the wild animals to tear down their cities and teach them humility, but had hinted to the renegade Ashlander that a certain person in the right place at the right time would be able to undo this.__

 _ _The Ashlander seemed convinced that she was the one who could reverse the damage Hircine had caused. Arguing with him got Kyra nowhere, so she eventually agreed to do whatever she could do save Morrowind. And really, she didn't want to see Morrowind damaged any more than he did.__

 _ _So she headed back and threw herself into researching the animal attacks as much as she could. Any information she found was added to her fight and slowly, she began to see progress. People started to recognise her from her efforts and rumours spread about her until everyone knew her by name, if not by face. Or technically eyes. Everyone knew how unique they were.__

 _ _Nightingale. That was what they called her. Their faith fueled her determination and she gradually became a figurehead to them, a symbol of hope while their cities were crumbling. But there were too many unknowns__ _ _and for every attack she managed to prevent, three more happened elsewhere. Until at last, she reached a breaking point.__

 _ _She travelled to Hircine's shrine deep in the Ashlands. It was overgrown and derelict, but she spent three days painstakingly clearing it up in an effort to get the Daedric Prince's attention. And on the third night, she wasn't alone in her dreams.__

 _ _Hircine spoke to her. Kyra listened and with polite firmness, refused to accept the situation and stayed still when Hircine flew into a rage and threatened to turn his beasts on her. She shook and her mind went blank but words came out of her mouth without her permission.__

 _ _She told him to look at her, look into her soul. After initially refusing to be commanded by a mere mortal, he did so, while Kyra waited, paralysed. When Hircine spoke again, faint respect was evident in his tone, a respect that hadn't been there before. He said she had the spirit__ _ _of a predator, of a proud and powerful creature. But there was more than that. He told her she was more important than she knew, and killing her would disrupt the threads of time.__

 _ _Hircine agreed to return Morrowind to its peaceful status and as a token of his goodwill, give her his blessing - she would receive the gift of '__ _ _dyr__ _ _kvisa__ _'_ _ _, meaning 'animal whisper' in the ancient Nordic tongue. Wild beasts would recognise her as one of their own, and wouldn't attack her. Kyra realised what a gift it was but she was torn from the dream before she could thank him.__

 _ _When Kyra returned, everyone knew what she had done. The Dunmer revered her for saving their home and her influence in Morrowind was enormous. But apart from Morrowind, her status was kept hidden - the Dunmer guarded their secrets carefully.__

 _ _She made good use of her fame. She used it to speed up the process of repairing the cities, reestablishing the__ _ _farms, and enjoyed the respect the Dunmer gave her. They weren't grovelers by any means -and Kyra appreciated that - but they were respectful and gallant__ _ _towards her. She was content in Morrowind and she felt at home with herself.__

* * *

memories but they were flickering in her mind, faster and faster, she lived in the past, she lost herself-

* * *

 _ _She was a traitor. She should have known better than to get close to anyone again. People who got close to her got hurt - her past was the best indication of that. But she was happy with her life in Morrowind, so when she started becoming friends with Morami and Tarovon, she accepted it quickly and enjoyed their company.__

 _ _They all had a love of exploring so, as a group of three, they journeyed into the far reaches of Morrowind, laughing and venturing into crumbling Daedric ruins. Time flew past and she thought their friendship and adventures would last. She should have known better.__

 _ _People loved her for being Nightingale, for healing Morrowind. But there were others that saw her as a threat and were determined to be rid of her. She was aware that traps were being set for her, but in her foolish arrogance, she walked into each and every one with Morami and Tarovon, content in the knowledge that they were too skilled to be caught. And, for a while at least, they were. They sprung the trap, defeated the enemies and walked out triumphant.__

 _ _Morami and Tarovon cautioned her as the traps became more intricate, but when she reassured them she knew what she was doing, they followed her gladly in. That was what friends were for, as Tarovon was so fond of saying. And so they continued escaping each trap. Until one time, when they didn't.__

 _ _They all knew it was a trap before they went in. It was obvious and it wasn't well disguised. The three of them were joking as they walked in, calling out to the hidden enemy lurking in the shadows.__

 _ _The interior of the ruin was circular and made of harsh grey stone. Running water echoed distantly - a roar of cascading water.__

 _ _Still laughing, they strode to the centre of the room, taunting the hidden enemy to release the elaborate trap.__

 _ _But that was the problem. The trap was horribly, brutally effective. No scheming and revealing the master plan. No overly complicated design. All it needed was a single pull of a lever and the sound of the rushing water drew closer.__

 _ _Tarovon instantly grasped what had happened and tried to break open the door but the enemy had barred and locked it on his way out. The three of them could do nothing as water flooded into the room. In seconds, it was ankle high.__

 _ _Morami dug a scroll of divine intervention out of her bag. She had always been the more wary of the three of them. After a brief moment of indecision, she handed it to Kyra, who looked at it blankly. The water was waist high and icy cold.__

 _ _Kyra argued with them, against their unwavering dedication, against their truth and logic. They were prepared to sacrifice themselves to get her out. Their shouts and yells echoed in the room but there was no one else to hear. They were forced to tread water as the water slowly carried them towards the curved roof.__

 _ _Kyra made her decision. She waited for as long as she could, until she saw Morami gasping for air and Tarovon choking on water before she opened the scroll.__

 _ _She was weak and crying and in the instance she used the scroll to transport her far away from her friends, she loathed herself.__

 _ _Tarovon's parting words reverberated in her head as she left them.__

 ** _ _ **That's what friends are for.**__**

 _ _And Kyra was the__

 _ _worst of them__

 _ _all.__

* * *

and she breathed out.

A pause. Her heartbeat. The wind.

But she knew it wasn't over. Not now. Not yet.

The most recent memory hovered over her awareness like a cloud.

Her and Alaedra. The argument. The words. The anger. And the memory descended.

* * *

 _ _She wasn't herself. She still felt the fire simmering within her, concealed for the time being but ready to explode.__

 _ _They were standing outside the fort. Kyra didn't remember how they got here. The rain had stopped but the ground was still damp, puddles glittering in the morning sun.__

 _ _The air hasn't shed its oppressive feel - it was resentful and filthy, swirling with mistrust and emotion.__

 _"_ _ _What was that?" Alaedra's voice. Low and rough. It demanded an explanation. Kyra didn't give one and stayed silent. She couldn't explain what had happened. She couldn't explain that when she had been killing, she had been a dragon in human form. She could never tell Alaedra the feeling that had raged through her, uncaring of whether she slaughtered Stormcloak or Imperial. And she could__ never _ _tell Alaedra that it had all been to protect her, consciously or not.__

 _ _Alaedra swung round to face her, eyes filled with expression. "I said, what was that?" Her voice was louder.__

 _ _Kyra let out a shuddering breath. She wanted to tell Alaedra everything. Make her understand. But all she could see were Ralof's empty eyes and the mutilated bodies of the soldiers who dared to go against her. So all she said instead was, "I don't know."__

 _ _She knew it wasn't enough. She knew Alaedra would never accept it. But she couldn't bring herself to try and explain. No, Alaedra was safer without her.__

 _ _Alaedra was silent, staring at her in disbelief. Kyra felt the absurd need to carry on talking, to make the situation worse until there was no going back. So she did, staring into the distance.__

 _"_ _ _It doesn't matter," she said.__

 _ _Alaedra let out a humourless laugh and Kyra felt part of her shrivel at the harsh sound. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter? You__ killed _ _all of them, and now you don't care?"__

 _"_ _ _How can you say that?" She whirled around to face Alaedra. "How can you stand there and say I don't care?"__

 _"_ _ _Look at yourself! You aren't showing any emotion. No regret, no shame, nothing," Alaedra spat.__

 _ _Kyra stayed quiet, although she stiffened, her mind taunting her with impossible possibilities and torn dreams. Words best left unsaid bubbled up in her throat, pressing against her lips, but she kept her jaw clenched.__

 _ _Oh, if only Alaedra could feel the emotions that were raging inside her. Surely Alaedra knew her well enough by now to know that this was how she dealt with certain things. But it seemed not. The thought left a sour taste on her tongue, and she opened her mouth to reply, but Alaedra was already talking.__

 _"_ _ _So you__ don't __care then. Everyone is dead because you killed them, and you don't feel anything."__

 _"_ _ _Would you rather I let the Imperials win then? Is that what you want?" Her sarcasm lashed out, and she contained a faint trickle of satisfaction when she saw Alaedra stiffen.__

 _"_ _ _Of course I didn't want them to win! But it's a completely different matter seeing my best friend laughing as she kills everyone, including her allies, and then acting like nothing is different. Look…please. Just talk to me," Alaedra said, suddenly looking very vulnerable. "There must be a reason." She reached out a hand towards Kyra and placed a shaking hand on her shoulder.__

 _"_ _ _There isn't a reason," she said lowly and tried not to react as Alaedra's warm hand came into contact with her shoulder. "I don't need to explain myself to you." Her voice sounded mechanical.__

 _"_ _ _What's happened to you?" Alaedra asked faintly. "What's happened to my Kyra? Where have you gone?"__

 _ _A lump formed in her throat and she stared at Alaedra in disbelief. And despite her attempts to drive Alaedra away, she couldn't prevent her voice from coming out small and broken. "I'm still here," she said quietly, painfully.__

 _ _Alaedra shook her head. "No. No, you aren't."__

 _ _And rage crashed through Kyra. How dare Alaedra ignore her attempts to keep her at arms length? Didn't she know she was safer away from Kyra?__

 _ _Kyra snarled, shoving her hand off. "I don't need your pity!" she growled. "I don't need your attempts at understanding. Stay away from me. I killed them, don't you get that? I killed them all!"__

 _ _Alaedra's hand fell limply at her side. "You aren't even going to apologise, are you? You really don't care you just killed everyone."__

 _"_ _ _And why should I? Just because I wanted to have some fun and let my dragon soul out for a while, doesn't mean you can judge me about it!" The words couldn't be further from the truth. But she forced herself to continue talking. "I was getting bored anyway."__

 _ _Anger slowly dawned on Alaedra's face. It was an expression Kyra had never seen before, not on Alaedra's face, and she never wanted to see it again.__

 _"_ _ _You were bored. Is that the excuse you use for slaughter?" Alaedra shook her head. "Is this the person you really are? Beneath everything?"__

 _ _She swallowed, apologises bubbling up, but she hardened her gazr and stepped forwards. "It was your own fault for not looking deeper. For not realising who I was."__

 _ _Alaedra choked out a wordless exclamation. "You're blaming this on me? This is your own fault. You kept everything to yourself and expected me to pretend that everything was fine. But it wasn't, and it never will be," Alaedra said, each word bit off.__

 _"_ _ _Don't pretend everything's fine then! I don't need to tell y-"__

 _ _Alaedra interrupted her. "You're scared. You're…" She trailed off, an incredulous laugh spilling from her lips. "No, you're__ terrified. __You're terrified of getting close to people aren't you?"__

 _ _Kyra recoiled, the turn in conversation veering on dangerous waters. "No, I-"__

 _ _Alaedra cut her off once more. "You won't even tell me about your past because you're too scared of it repeating itself."__

 _ _The irony of the sentence silenced her. She stared, speechless, as Alaedra continued talking.__

 _"_ _ _Every time you talked with me, every time you laughed with me, you were lying to me. You're lying to yourself. You're always pretending, aren't you? And inside, you're terrified. You don't trust anyone, not Ralof, not even me." Alaedra paused, something akin to regret entering her expression before it hardened again. "Maybe if you trusted people, things would be different between us."__

 _ _Kyra stumbled. And the fire rose up once more, licking at her self-constraint. "How dare you." Her voice was low and deadly. "Kaoc, you don't know anything about my past."__

 _"_ _ _I know you killed those people. And I know you enjoyed it."__

 _ _Kyra let out a wordless shout and the air shimmered with almost use of the thu'um. Alaedra staggered back from the force but she didn't care. How could Alaedra think she had been lying to her? How dare she, when Kyra had made every effort to be genuine around her?__

 _ _Alaedra regained her footing and started walking towards her. Tears were collecting in her eyes, some over-spilling and trickling down her face, but she didn't seem to notice. She was still talking. Cold, cold words that had no business coming from her lips.__

 _"_ _ _You killed them and you enjoyed it," she repeated. "I look back on all the times I spent with you, and I'm realising it was all just a lie. Did you ever like me? Or were you just waiting for the chance to betray our friendship?"__

 _ _Kyra couldn't help herself. She let out a bitter laugh, the sharp sound piercing the air with daggers of derision, dripping with poison, "You really had no idea, did you?" she asked softly, knowing that Alaedra wouldn't mistake her quietness for backing down. "You really had no idea what you meant to me. But it's too late. Our friendship is__ damaged __now, twisted and contorted into something that can't be fixed. Don't try. I doubt you'd want to anyway. After all, I'm just a murderer."__

 _ _The confession forced tendrils of pain to creep through her mind. Murderer.__

 _"_ _ _Yes. You are," Alaedra said.__

 _ _And something snapped.__

 _ _Kyra let go of her tenuous grasp on her anger and__ shouted _ _. Alaedra was thrown off her feet and crashed into a tree, falling limply at its exposed roots. Something stirred within Kyra as she looked at Alaedra and saw the fear made a reappearance in her gaze. But the fire overwhelmed everything else.__

 _"_ _ _I've always wanted to be alone. Stay away from me." Her voice started to shake. She swallowed and hesitated for a second, looking at Alaedra painfully getting to her feet, but her pride wouldn't allow her to apologise.__

 _"_ _ _I'm not human," she said, and her voice was like shards of glass. Cold. Jagged. Brittle. "I never was. So why are you expecting me to act like one?"__

 _ _Alaedra's eyes burnt into her back as she walked away. She didn't dare look back.__

* * *

She was curled on her side when she eventually returned to herself. The memories had released her from their grasp but still she shook uncontrollably, arms wrapped around her body. Her cheeks were wet.

She lay there and didn't move. She couldn't. There was no point. It didn't matter if bandits found her. At least then she wouldn't need to wake up to this icy, wrenching pain again.

The wind was blowing colder now. She didn't care. All she could do was breath in and out. In and out. Rhythmic. Repetitive. Measured.

She turned her gaze to her sky and drowned in the memories.


	22. Let not the sun go down upon your wrath

She blinked. It was raining again. It had been for some time, if the dampness of the ground around her was any indication.

The thick cover of rolling clouds hinted at dusk - the rain and lurking gloom reminding her of long winter evenings - but she knew it couldn't have been much later than noon. Strange. It felt like she had been lying here for much longer.

The memories had finally retreated, withdrawing their vicious claws. But despite their absence, her mind still felt somehow muffled and dampened - there was no focus, no direction. Even her thoughts felt sluggish.

She needed to move.

She hauled herself up on her elbows, wincing as her injuries protested. None of them were too serious but they were numerous and she groaned in discomfort.

Her fingers were clumsy and numb but she somehow managed to dig through her pocket, finally reaching her emergency healing potions. She couldn't use the voice again - not after what had happened, not after what it had done. She downed the potion in one, uncaring of how much dribbled down her chin in her haste, and sighed as her injuries knitted together, although the stiffness in her body remained.

With an effort that left her breathless, she found her feet and stood up, leaning against a tree for support. Cold rain trickled down her face but it did nothing to invigorate her.

Her legs trembled beneath her and she gritted her teeth, trying to remain standing. She knew that as soon as she gave in, as soon as she lay back down, she wouldn't have the energy - or willpower - to stand up again.

And maybe she __should__ just stay here. Lie down again and let nature take its course. After what had happened-

And her mind stuttered to a halt. She couldn't think about it - she _wouldn't_ think about it. Her only choice was to run. And Gods, she was good at running from her past. She would run as far as she could, far away from the sightless bodies and the violence and Alaedra, and pretend they had never existed.

But her feet refused to move.

After all they had been through together - fighting side by side against the Imperials, campaigning to make the Dunmer's lives better, training together, exploring, laughing - could she really let this just trickle through her fingers? When she first met Alaedra, that fateful day after defeating Mirmulnir, she was determined to keep her at a distance. But __so__ much had changed since then, and despite her reluctance to let Alaedra grow close to her, it had somehow happened.

And she didn't mind. Because the truth of the matter was that the time she had spent with Alaedra had been __beautiful__. The occasional bushing of hands, shy looks and wild laughter as the snow fell. A determination to change the world, to get to know each other better, and to take each day as it came. Intellectual talks, silly talks, compassionate talks. Fighting together, the salty tang of sweat and the thrill of the game.

They occasionally argued, they disagreed about many things, but Kyra was amazed at Alaedra's ability to forgive almost instantly. And the only arguments they had were caused by Kyra herself.

Because Alaedra had been __right.__ She had been right when she accused Kyra of being scared of growing close to anyone, and she had been right when she accused Kyra of having built walls against the world.

What if there was a chance - a mudcrab's chance in Oblivion, perhaps - but a chance nonetheless, that Alaedra would be waiting in Windhelm? Maybe they could talk this through, maybe Kyra could at least try to explain herself.

She knew she was lying to herself. Kyra didn't know whether she could forgive Alaedra herself, let alone the other way round. The sting of the uttered words - the rage of the argument, the heat and the ice - seemed to pool on her stomach. A sinking feeling pulled her down and her chest was tight.

Alaedra's words had been filled with fear and anger and they forced themselves into her mind.

" _ _You're lying to yourself."__

 _"_ _ _I know you killed those people. And you enjoyed it."__

 _"_ _ _Was it all an act?"__

 _"_ _ _Did you ever like me?__

 _"_ _ _You betrayed our friendship."__

 _"_ _ _Murderer."__

 _"_ _ _Murderer."__

 _"_ _ _Murderer!"__

Kyra let out a wordless shout. She stumbled forwards, falling to her knees and dragging her hands through her hair. She choked, pulling in deep breaths and trying to calm her mind.

Slowly, she forced herself back into reality, her trembling starting to decrease although an occasional tremor ran through her.

No, she couldn't forgive Alaedra yet. Not yet.

But one step at a time. One step. Her feet moved forwards, carrying her in the direction of Windhelm.

* * *

She managed to hitch a ride on the back of a wagon for most of her journey. A farmer had been kind enough to offer her a lift to Windhelm, and she gladly accepted. Her muscles were aching and her feet were sore from the constant impact as they collided with the ground; she had been stumbling through the wilderness for days. Healing potions only cured physical wounds - they did nothing to stop the tiredness that hovered over her like a perpetual cloud, or the numbness that invaded her body.

The farmer tried to make friendly conversation with her as they travelled, his polite manners at odds with his rough speech as he inquired about her general well-being. Kyra appreciated his attempts to dispel the awkwardness, but she could barely find it in her to utter words, whether they be pleasant or biting. Instead, she replied with monosyllable answers, the words short and brittle, and they cracked in the air as soon as they left her tongue.

He eventually seemed to grasp that she didn't want to talk, and silence fell between them. She retreated back into her thoughts.

A few days later, he dropped her outside the familiar gates of Windhelm. He offered her a crooked smile as he rode off, the gentle creaking of the wagon and the horse's hooves seeming to echo in the sudden stillness that descended around her.

Every step seemed like a broken eternity as she walked across the bridge, through the gates, and along the worn streets, stumbling occasionally on the cracked paving stones. It looked exactly the same, but how could it, when everything had changed? People were smiling, tossing their heads back as they laughed. Couldn't they feel the numbness that hovered in the air?

A fog in her mind blunted her thoughts, and yet somehow, her feet unerringly led her to the familiar door of the inn. Splinters jutted out at harsh angles and the paint was still peeling off in strips, revealing the worn wood that lay beneath, exposed to the elements.

She reached a hand out and gently placed it on the door, the wood rough against her skin. If Alaedra was going to be anywhere, she'd be here.

Alaedra would be sitting at the bar, her pose relaxed as she chatted with Divayn and threw the occasional sarcastic comment over at Virend. She'd be sipping from an ale mug, froth gently dusting her upper lip as she lost herself in the conversation and laughter. When Kyra entered, Alaedra would immediately look over at her, and once their gazes meet, she would hesitantly offer a smile, and Kyra would know that everything would be okay.

She pushed open the door.

Silence greeted her. A devastating, empty silence that seemed to rush into her soul and freeze her blood. The numbness wavered but she grasped onto it with tight fingers. She wouldn't let the pain come.

Virend was absent from his usual position by the bar, his ale mug lying on its side, and Divayn was quietly nursing his own ale. For once, he seemed to be taking a break from his non-existent duties in maintaining the inn. And Alaedra was nowhere to be seen.

She took a slow step inside, heel to toe. Her footstep sounded harsh as it fractured the silence, sending it scattering into tiny pieces. Divayn looked up, surprise written clearly over his features, but he broke into a smile as soon as he saw her.

"Nightingale! I was beginning to wonder where you were."

She walked further inside, shutting the door gently behind her. Dust rose up in small clouds as her feet made contact with the floorboards. She scanned the room, looking for signs that Alaedra had been here recently. Maybe she'd just gone to the market for food, or to speak to Ulfric about Stormcloak duties.

Divayn frowned when she didn't say anything. "Are you okay?"

She didn't answer for a minute, still looking around at the room, before she slowly turned back to him. "Have you seen Alaedra?"

She held her breath, waiting for Divayn's answer.

Waiting.

Waiting.

And when Divayn shook his head, something gave way inside her and she felt so, __so__ sick to her stomach.

"I haven't seen her in weeks. I thought she went on a mission with you. Did sh-Nightingale?"

Kyra sunk into the nearest chair, clenching her fists so tight she could see the ghost of her knuckles shifting beneath her translucent skin. Despite her fears of seeing Alaedra again, despite her reluctance to forgive her, until this moment, she hadn't let herself consider the possibility that Alaedra wouldn't be here. Because if she wasn't here, Alaedra didn't want to forgive her, and Kyra would have to live though the knowledge that she was the reason for the massacre at Fort Neugrad. They wouldn't talk again.

"Are…are you okay?" Divayn asked, sounding hesitant.

She nodded her head. "I'm fine," she whispered, and then choked on her next words, her breath rasping painfully against her throat.

"What happened? Did your mission not go as well as you hoped?"

Had the situation been any different, she would have laughed at the irony of his words, at just how __right__ he was. But as it was, his words caused bile to rise in her throat as sightless eyes swam across her mind, accusing her. "I…I can't say. I need to speak to Ulfric," she said instead.

She didn't look at Divayn as she stood up so fast she swayed, and then darted out of the door before Divayn could protest.

The weak afternoon sun did nothing to warm her skin as she leant against a wall, stone digging into her back. Kyra struggled to control her breathing as it trembled in her lungs, and everything suddenly just seemed too __loud__ , too __bright__. It penetrated her mind, digging claws into her sanity and she clenched her eyes shut, as though she could escape reality. Ralof was dead. Alaedra was scared of her. And she was a murderer. But when she closed her eyes, it all felt a little more distant, a little less real, and a little less painful.

It was only when she was sure she was in control of her body that she pushed away from the wall and started heading towards the palace. Several soldiers saluted her as she passed, but she didn't acknowledged them, even the ones she faintly recognised.

Ulfric wasn't on his throne or in the war room so she walked towards his office. She had only visited his office once, and the corridors were still unfamiliar. She was forced to backtrack a few times before she finally reached his door.

She felt as though her heart should be hammering in her chest, but it pulsed lethargically instead, the numbness trapping it with a cold embrace.

Kyra knocked, pushing away memories of the last time she had done this, and waited. The deep tone of Ulfric called for her to enter, and she adjusted her filthy armour one last time before she wrapped her hand around the handle and stepped in.

Ulfric looked at her with an expression that could only be classed as surprise. She'd never seen it on him before - not even when Alduin attacked Helgen. But that look was soon replaced by dawning anger, and she suddenly realised why the Imperials rightly feared him. She swallowed.

"My Jarl," she said, the words foreign on her tongue.

"Dragonborn," he bit out with barely controlled temper. "You have a lot of explaining to be done. What happened at Fort Neugrad?"

Realising it was a bad idea to skirt around the issue, she took a deep breath and started talking, telling Ulfric about the events that had occurred at Fort Neugrad. She left out the emergence of the darker side of her dragon soul, instead saying that the Stormcloaks and Imperials killed each other.

"You're trying to tell me that everyone was killed, apart from you." It wasn't a question.

"N-not quite," she stuttered. "Alaedra survived as well. But she, um, decided to complete a mission with the Companions before returning." It was an outright lie, but the best she could do under the circumstances.

She could see that Ulfric didn't believe her, but although he asked her more questions with increasing rage, she stuck to her story, hating every word that spilled from her mouth.

Ulfric went quiet.

"So. You're the reason some of my best men were killed, because you weren't able to avoid the sentries," he said. If she didn't know him better, she would have said he was calm.

She nodded jerkily. "Yes my Jarl."

He sighed, running his hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of stress. "Were all the Imperials killed? All of them?"

"Yes." She wouldn't have let any escape.

"In that case, at least the fort is now ours for the taking. I'll send a force down to clear up your mess and station them permanently." He paused, gritting his teeth. "You're off the army, dragonborn."

She straightened. "But sir-"

"No buts. After your screw-up, I can't afford to keep you. If word gets out about what happened, and how you caused it, I could have an Oblivion-cursed mutiny on my hands. I don't __want__ to let you go - you were a good captain - but this?" He gestured wildly at her. "This is too far. I can't have someone as dangerous as you in the Stormcloaks."

Kyra sucked in a breath. Dangerous? Surely he didn't know…

Ulfric must have seen her expression because he growled, and paced forwards to tower over her. She resisted the urge to step back. "Do you take me for a fool?"

She shook her head wordlessly.

"In that case, I appreciate not being lied to my face!" The air shimmered with the use of the thu'um, the power tangible. "Do you not think I would have sent scouts down there when I didn't hear word that the fort had been conquered? And do you not think I would know both Stormcloaks and Imperials weren't all killed by swords - that they were killed by the thu'um?"

She opened her mouth to protest, to say __something__ , but she saw Ulfric's expression. Kyra bit her kip and lowered her gaze instead, trembling with the emotions she wouldn't let escape.

"I can guess what happened. I-no, don't tell me. I don't need to know the details. But the fact that it __did__ happen means you're a liability, and could attack either side at any moment if you lose your anger. Hand over your captain's stripes."

With a heavy heart, she did as she was told, a lump starting to form in her throat. There was no point protesting, no matter how much she wanted to.

Ulfric looked as though he was going to say something, but waved his hand dismissively instead. "Keep your cloak. It isn't standard Stormcloak make, so no one will recognise you as an ex-captain."

She didn't care about the cloak - it seemed so trivial now - but she thanked him anyway, heading towards the door.

"Oh, and Kyra?"

The use of her first name made her turn around.

"I've made plans to start improving the grey quarter this week. I keep my promises." He offered her something that may have been a smile, but was more of a grimace. "Thank you for your service, soldier."

Kyra nodded, words catching in her throat, and turned away before he could see the tears rise in her eyes. She angrily dashed them away as she hurried down the corridors, avoiding eye contact with everyone she met.

The walk back to the inn passed in a blur as night descended and the moons rose, bathing the winding streets in a cold light as it illuminated the crumbling buildings and their grand decay. She avoided the edge of the streets where shadows lurked, instead choosing to stay in the middle, in the light, where she could see everything.

Kyra eventually reached the inn, but paused when she heard familiar voices emanating from within. She could easily make out the deep and cynical timbre of Virend, and the brighter tones of Senethys and Divayn.

Bracing herself, she opened the door. Light spilled onto the street, but was cut off as the door closed when she was inside. She barely managed to take one step before she found her arms filled with Senethys, who hadn't seen her in several weeks.

She stiffened, memories flashing in her mind of the last person she had held, and immediately let go of Senethys, stumbling backwards a little. Senethys backed away, her smile fading. Virend looked over, and she thought she saw worry flash across his face as he locked eyes with her. She didn't want to know what she looked like - she couldn't remember the last time she had slept properly.

"Are you okay?" Senethys asked, brow furrowed in a way that was just so similar to how Alaedra looked when she was concerned.

"I'm fine," she murmured, her mouth aching. "Just tired. I'm heading up to bed now." She brushed past Senethys, unable to look any of them in the eyes and hurried up the stairs, ignoring the quiet conversation that started up as soon as they thought she was out of range of hearing. The uncharacteristic concern that was laced in Virend's tone almost made her smile. Almost.

She was expecting it, but it was still a shock when she looked into her and Alaedra's room, and saw their beds arranged neatly, bed covers folded back and the occasional item of clothing lying haphazardly on the ground. The room was full of a story, and she could almost imagine it carrying on from where it had left off. But that was impossible.

With stinging eyes, she stripped out of her sweaty armour, still covered in blood and dirt, and threw it in the corner. Normally she would take the time to clean it and hang it up, but she couldn't find the energy to care.

Instead, she threw herself on her bed, limbs askew. Her muscles hummed in contentment as they finally relaxed, but her brain didn't seem to share the same sentiments as it carried on churning through thoughts, throwing tremulous emotions at her.

It was almost pitch-black outside, but although she closed her eyes and turned over onto her usual sleeping position, she couldn't drift off. Memories plagued her mind and reached into her soul, torturing her with visions of mutilated bodies, and cold words spewed from the lips of Alaedra.

Hours passed. Time slowed, and then sped up as she tossed on the bed. Her eyes burned with a lack of sleep and her muscles felt leaden as she continued to shift her position, hoping she could drift off to sleep, to oblivion, but knowing she wouldn't be able to.

The small hours of the morning found her burying her face in the pillow, shoulders shaking with the effort it took to keep her tears inside, keep her emotions contained.

She lost.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, drenching her pillow with memories of her anguish. The dampness was cool against her cheeks as she choked out something that could have been a sob, could have been a curse, could have been a name.

More hours passed. The darkness fled and a light flurry of snow started to fall outside the window, glittering in the morning sun, but she didn't move. She needed something to do, something to distract her from the numbness that invaded her, but without Stormcloak duties, there was nothing for her to do. Nothing but just lie there. Nothing but hope she could drift off into Oblivion.

Oblivion…

And then she sat abruptly upright, something akin to excitement starting to flow sluggishly through her veins.

Kyra stumbled out of bed, wincing as her joints clicked, and opened her wardrobe. She sifted through her clothes, and other bits and pieces she had picked up during the last few months, and finally settled on what she was looking for, hidden in the furthest corner.

The book on summoning felt cold in her hands.


	23. Running away

**Apologies for the wait. Hopefully I'll get the next one out within two weeks :)**

* * *

She skipped the introduction. Honestly, she should have read it, but for the first time in weeks, the numbness had lifted. She didn't know quite why she was doing this. There was no ulterior motive, no goal to strive for, simply something to take her mind off Alaedra.

Chapter one was the theory behind the art of Summoning - it spoke of how to control your mental state before you Summoned and how to feel the bond between Summoner and Summoned, as well as cataloging what you could call forth from Oblivion.

Different areas had stronger bonds with various Summoned due to lingering residual energy that collected in pockets throughout Tamriel - in Morrowind, there was a stronger bond between the Summoner and a Bone Lord, but this was almost non-existent in Skyrim. However, Skyrim boasted a strong bond with Dremora's, allowing skilled Summoners to keep Dremora on Mundus for long periods of time, and in some cases, permanently.

The second chapter looked at the simplest of Summons - a Familiar. These were supposed to take the form of your subconscious personality by drawing raw and unbalanced energy from Oblivion and shaping it into a creature. This was one of the exceptions in Summoning - the Familiar itself does not come from Oblivion, but the energy used to form it does.

Despite it being one of the fundamental Summons, it was still a complicated process, with the ability to go disastrously wrong if someone unskilled tried it - especially without supervision. She conveniently ignored the fact she embodied all this, and buried herself in the second chapter.

Twilight was falling once more by the time she was confident she could recite both chapters from memory. Her grasp of simple theory had formulated well, and although the two chapters only briefly addressed the more complicated theories, she wouldn't need to know them until she was practicing more advanced Summons - like a Dremora.

Book clasped tight to her chest, she crept down the stairs and headed onto the streets, drawing the crisp air into her lungs. The streets were abnormally quiet - the alleys were usually crowded with people in the evening - and the wavering silence sent chills creeping over her body.

It was only when she headed across the bridge and into the surrounding scenery that she began to relax. The silence that had been eerie in Windhelm seemed natural and calming here, only broken by the wind whistling softly in the dim half-light.

Kyra walked across the simultaneously bleak and beautiful terrain until the crumbling walls of Windhelm were almost out of sight. The wind blew colder here, and she shivered as the iciness bit into her.

Instincts returned - instincts that didn't quite belong to her - and the Dovah words for 'shield cold' rose in her mind, filling her head with knowledge. The power of the thu'um swirled in her lungs, hovered on her tongue, waiting to be set free.

Kyra sucked in a deep breath, and prepared to shout.

She stumbled, catching herself on the tree, and clenched her eyes shut. Unbidden, memories had once more forced their way into her mind, tormenting her as they reached into the darkest parts of her soul. The sightless eyes of the soldiers she had murdered stared at her, accusing and blank. They had been killed by her, killed by the thu'um. Killed by the thu'um.

She shut her mouth abruptly. The power of the thu'um wavered and dissipated.

She ignored the cold. She ignored the way goosebumps rose on her skin and the way her hands turned pale. She wouldn't use the thu'um - not after what it had done.

Instead, she flickered through the pages of her book, selecting the page that detailed how to Summon a Familiar.

She followed the instructions precisely, first falling into a meditative state. This was harder than she thought, her emotions still flickering uncontrollably, but the book stated that this was the best way for beginners to make the link between Mundus and Oblivion. Expert Summoners would eventually be able to skip over this step.

After several long minutes of listening to her breathing, she fell into a sort of… _ _trance.__ It didn't feel dissimilar to the feeling that came over her when she was absorbed with sword fighting - completely involved with the moment, aware of her surroundings, yet somehow removed from her body.

The first stage complete, she reached out with her mind, keeping hold of the trance, and tried to feel the tenuous threads that linked Mundus to Oblivion. The book described it as 'a thread of humming energy', but although she stood there for what felt like hours, she couldn't find the links.

Her feet were frozen in her boots, her fingers numb, and she was on the verge of giving up. The trance wavered yet again but she held onto it, not letting it escape. Taking in a deep breath, she strove forwards once more, further than she had before. Further…further.

Something reverberated in her mind and the space around her. She reached for it with mental probes and found something that she could only describe as a ribbon of resonating power, intangible yet very real.

Trying to stay calm but her heart pounding all the same, she followed the thread, picturing raw energy, unadulterated essence. She tried to shape it into a containable form, and focus the energy on what she wanted. The thread flexed, pulsed, and then she could __feel__ something - an energy building up within her. It started deep inside, in a place she wasn't aware of, before it started to creep through her body, building up in her outstretched hand. Her hand tingled with the energy until it grew hotter and hotter and she had to let the energy escape, let it form, let it _ _live__.

She released it.

A broken hum filled the air and she opened her eyes just in time to see a ghostly wolf step through a violet abyss. He padded forwards towards her, the abyss fading as he did. With a shock, she realised she could feel him. She could feel the bond that tied her to her Familiar, and the bond that tied her Familiar to Oblivion. She let loose a laugh, the energy from the Summon accumulating in her body, and in that instance, she could have sworn she was __happy__.

But her concentration wavered. The trance fled, and the bonds faded. Her familiar shivered and his form dissipated in the air, the energy no longer having a shape to contain it.

The feeling that was so similar to happiness began to wither, but she could feel it lingering in her bones, lighting up her blood. For the first time in many days, she felt __alive__.

* * *

"You're going to do __what?"__

"I'm going to the College of Winterhold," she repeated patiently.

"But-but why?" Divayn spluttered, his normally calm composure fractured.

"I want to learn Summoning properly. Reading from a book isn't enough."

Virend frowned, his lip curling. "You're going to do necromancy?"

She sighed. "No. Necromancy and conjuration are two completely different things. I have no interest in necromancy and raising dead things." She shivered in distaste. "And besides, it'll be a useful skill to have when I'm fighting." __Now that I no longer want to use the thu'um__ , she added silently.

Divayn nodded reluctantly. "We'll all miss you," he said. "Senethys isn't here at the moment, but she'll be upset to hear you've left."

"I'm sorry. But I have to do this," she said quietly.

"I know," Divayn said. "I know you miss Alaedra, and I know this is a way of distracting yourself from her absence."

She started to protest but he held up a hand, cutting her off. "Going to the College will keep you busy until she comes back - just stay strong until then."

Kyra shook her head slowly, feeling her lips curl up in a bitter smile. "She's not coming back," she murmured.

She left before he could say anything else.

* * *

The distance between Windhelm and Winterhold was further than she expected, having never done the journey herself. Once again, she managed to hitch a ride with some people - a group of travelling bards who attempted to regale her with songs of her beauty and magnificence. She ignored the fact that her face was apparently 'a rose touched by the sweetest kiss of the sun', and spent the days curled up in the back of the wagon, reading her book.

By the time she and the bards split ways, she was halfway to Winterhold and halfway through her book, knowledge on Summoning safely stored in her mind.

She occupied herself during the lonely walk by reciting the facts she had learnt and Summoning her Familiar for comfort. He loped alongside her, occasionally wandering off to sniff at something, or chase after a rabbit that had gotten just a little too close. He behaved like a real animal, and the thought sent a pang through her as she thought of Iizaak. She hadn't even said goodbye to him.

The only trouble that occurred during her journey was a chance encounter with a thief. Her Familiar was off chasing yet another squirrel - useless ball of energy - and she wasn't in the mood to parry words with this unshaven and dishevelled man. She disarmed and slaughtered him with a ruthlessness that should have shocked her, but didn't. She continued on her way, a bag of gold heavier.

It was many days of walking along winding roads that were little more than animal tracks before she saw the walls of the college in the distance. They were half obscured by the slicing snow, but they managed to rise up from the clouds, immeasurably solid and implacable.

Her pace quickened, and it was only a few hours before the nearest buildings of Winterhold came into sight. She had been expecting a bustling and wealthy city, but the sight that greeted her was more than a little dismal. The houses looked ready to crumble - several already had, the wood decayed and beams askew - and only a few people roamed the streets.

As she walked through Winterhold, she could see several mammoth skulls dotting the ground, their eyeless sockets grinning at her from the grave. Snowberries surrounded them, a few growing inside the mouth or sockets, and she remember reading somewhere that Snowberries often made their home near sites of death - much the same as Nightshade.

Kyra pulled the hood of her cloak up for warmth, the iciness somehow managing to penetrate the thick material, and approached what seemed to be the entrance to the bridge. She was about to carry on walking, when she was suddenly bodily blocked by a person.

Backing up a few steps, she scowled at the high elf, who didn't look impressed.

"I'm a senior mage at the College of Winterhold," the high elf said. "I'm afraid outsiders cannot enter without permission. Why are you here?"

She frowned. "Well, I want to learn magic," she said. __Obviously__.

The high elf looked down her nose, although her expression wasn't as arrogant as Kyra had expected. "We can't just allow anyone in, I'm sure you understand. We want to know what you can offer to the college - admission wouldn't be free unless we gained something from it in return. A test is mandatory."

Kyra sighed. She should have expected something like this. "Okay, sure. What's the test?" she asked in a monotone.

The high elf pursed her lips, as though thinking. "Candlelight is one of the easiest spells, but still highly useful. I would like you to cast it, please."

"I don't know it."

"I can offer you the spell tome, for a certain fee. You would have until tomorrow to learn the spell and show me, in order to gain access?"

Kyra shook her head, annoyance mounting. "No. No, I can't cast any spells like that. I've tried."

"Well, why are you here then?" the high elf asked, eyebrows raised high. "If you can't cast a spell as simple as that, I don't see that you'll have any more luck inside the college. I think you should probably go now. Unless you have something to add?" The high elf waited, arms crossed.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, I don't actually care about most types of magic. I only came here to learn more about conjuration."

The high elf's expression changed. "Conjuration, huh? Well, if you can Summon a Familiar, I think that will suffice."

Kyra shed a smile. She let the trance fall upon her quickly as her breathing evened out - she had managed to perfect it during her journey and often chose to escape inside it - and reached for the threads. Recognising the unique signature of her Familiar lurking just beyond her understanding, she pulled the energy towards her, into Mundus. As her Familiar stepped out of the abyss, the feeling of contentment fell across her again, the residual energy from the Summon lingering in her bones.

"Welcome, apprentice." The high elf inclined her head slightly. "I am Faralda. And you are?"

"Kyra," she said quickly.

"If you'll follow me across the bridge - watch your footing - you can speak to Mirabelle for your induction. I suspect your mentor will be Phinis. He's our resident Conjurer, and if that's the only part of magic that interests you, I imagine he'll tutor you too. Depending on your level of skill, of course," she added.

Kyra didn't reply, too busy trying not to lose her footing on the icy stone. As Faralda lit yet enough mage light, she chanced a look down into the chasm. Snow swirled below, inexorable and unrelenting, blocking her view of the bottom. The sudden inclination to jump made her sway on her feet, teetering towards the edge. She wanted to step into the oblivion, to see if she would fly or fall, to test her wings. And if her wings failed, would it be such a bad thing?  
"Kyra?"

The voice yanked her out of…whatever that was, and she turned to face Faralda. Faralda looked concerned, but to Kyra's relief, she didn't say anything, instead beckoning her further across the bridge.

When they reached the other side, Faralda turned to her. "I'll leave you here. Mirabelle will be inside somewhere. Ask anyone for directions - I'm sure they'll know."

"Thank you," Kyra acknowledged, before turning and walking through a large arch, emerging in a courtyard. Snow drifted lazily to the ground, faintly illuminated by a stream of pale blue light that rose up from a stone well. She stepped towards it, enchanted by the side, before voices caught her attention.

Two people stood in front of the door - a woman and an Thalmor agent. She could see the mutual distaste in both their body language.

"I believe I have made myself clear," the woman said, both her tone and stance firm.

"Of course. I'm just trying to understand the reasoning behind the decision," the Thalmor agent replied, his voice filled with slickness. She sniffed the air and wasn't surprised when the smell of oil wafted towards her. She wrinkled her nose.

"You may be used to the Empire bowing down to your every whim, but the Thalmor won't received the same treatment here. You are a guest of the college. I hope you appreciate the opportunity."

"Yes, the Arc-"

The Thalmor agent cut off suddenly, eyes widening as he saw Kyra. She glanced behind her, wondering if he was looking at someone else, but when she looked back again, his gaze was still locked with hers. An indescribable expression flitted across his face, too fast for her to see.

By now, they had gained the attention of the female, who was also looking between the two, brow furrowed. Kyra walked towards them, wondering at the Thalmor agent's strange actions.

"Are you new here?" the female asked, a considerable change in her tone.

She nodded, still aware of the Thalmor agent's eyes fixed on her. "Yes, I was told to find Mirabelle."

"That's me. Welcome to the College of Winterhold," she said, flicking her hair out of her face. "If we talk more inside, I'm sure we can find a course suited to you?"

Kyra nodded quickly, anticipation wiping out the apathy.

Mirabelle turned back to the Thalmor agent. "I think we're done here," she said coolly.

He straightened, his lip curling as though he was looking at a diseased skeever, before turning on his heel and walking away. His cloak billowed after him, seeming as though it had a life of his own.

Kyra looked at Mirabelle, an eyebrow raised. "Is he always like that?" she said in an effort to make conversation. The words felt foreign in her mouth.

Mirabelle smiled, gesturing her inside, and they stepped through the door. "In the four months he's been here, I don't think there's a single person that doesn't avoid him at all costs. So yes, he's like that most of the time - just not quite as creepy.

"He's not creepy?" Kyra asked incredulously, trying to slip back into a more natural way of speaking. The warmth of the college interior made her relax slightly as the pervasive coldness loosened its perpetual grip on her.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. Ancano's creepy. But that was an extra level of creepy. He seemed as though he was trying to look into your soul," Mirabelle said, leading her along a wide corridor.

"Must be my charm," she said, and forced a smile. Her words sounded flat and emotionless.

Mirabelle smiled, but didn't say anything. She pushed open a door, and they emerged into a large room. A circular table stood in the middle of the room, and the walls were laden with shelves and shelves of potion ingredients, soul gems, and piles of dusty books.

Mirabelle waved her hand towards the shelves. "Sorry about the mess. My office is due a clean."

"It's fine," Kyra said politely. She could feel the numbness returning, and she returned the conversation to their original topic. "Are you going to be placing me on a particular course then?"

Mirabelle sat down on one of the chairs, and she did the same.

"Well, what are you interested in? A bit of everything?"

Kyra shook her head. "No, only conjuration. Specifically, Summoning."

Mirabelle raised her eyebrows, looking faintly surprised. "We haven't had a student of conjuration in quite some time. Most tend to go towards the other branches of magic. We don't have a specific course for conjuration, but Phinis has taken on students in the past and arranged a structured time-table for them. Would you be interested in that?"

 _ _Yes__ , Kyra wanted to shout, but she contained herself. "How good is he?" she asked, only feeling a little guilty at the rudely worded question.

Mirabelle didn't seem to mind. "One of the best in Skyrim. He's proficient in Summoning almost everything - I've heard he can even Summon a Winged Twilight, even though Skyrim has a notoriously weak connection with them."

She made herself to smile again. "That sounds great. Is there anything I need to sign or fill in?"

Mirabelle nodded, handing over several sheets of parchment and a quill. "Just fill in your personal details. It's only so we have a record of each student."

Kyra did as she was told, quickly jotting down her details,and handed them back after a few minutes.

Mirabelle scanned them quickly, and nodded. "Excellent. Welcome to the College of Winterhold."


	24. Cold as ice

**I'm sorry this chapter is so late - I had exams and most of my time was occupied by revising. My updates should be a lot more frequent now :)**

* * *

Phinis's office was empty when she stepped into it. She walked slowly into the centre of the room, glancing around as she did. Unlike Mirabelle's office, everything was orderly. Phinis had as many - if not more - items in his office, but they were arranged carefully on the shelves, little name tags describing the object.

Not knowing how long Phinis would be, she picked a book at random and started skimming through it. Although her original intention had just been to look at the topic briefly, she found herself absorbed. The book was looking at the various types of Familiar's and how the Summoner's personality can physically shape the energy. After reading the science behind it, she glanced at a list at the back of the book - it detailed the known types of animals that could be Summoned, and the aligned personality that accompanied it. Curious, she looked at the definition for a wolf.

 _"_ _ _A Summoner who's Familiar takes the form of a wolf is loyal above all else. Wolves are pack animals, and although they can take time to form bonds, those who find themselves worthy of the love of a wolf will be protected from all danger. The Summoner is often known for their s__ _ _harp intelligence, and their deep connection__ _ _with__ _ _instincts. An appetite for freedom runs through their blood, and they hate being tied down - yet for those they love, they will sacrifice."__

She swallowed past a lump in her throat. She wasn't loyal, and she no longer had anyone to protect from harm. Freedom was hollow if there was no one to share it with her.

She stopped reading, carefully placing the book back on the shelf.

"Why are you in my office?" a voice asked from behind her.

She spun around to see a short, balding man standing in the doorway, hands slightly raised as though prepared to Summon.

"Mirabelle told me to come here," she said quickly. "I'm interested in learning Summoning, and she thought you would be willing to teach me."

His hands lowered, although his stance showed he was still alert. "Summoning, huh? Well, at least you know the correct term for it - that's a start. But potential Summoner or not, I don't appreciate you entering my office without my permission."

She clenched her fists at his tone but remained silent.

He sighed, walking towards her and shutting the door behind him. "Still, no harm done, I suppose," he said as he scanned the room. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he turned his attention to her. "How did you come across Summoning then?"

Kyra reached into her pack, and withdrew her summoning book, handing it to him. "I started reading this."

His expression changed. Well-disguised shock flitted across his face as he carefully, almost reverently, turned the pages, soothing each wrinkled page as he did. He finally looked up at her. "Do you know what book this is?"

She shook her head wordlessly.

"This is rare. Extremely rare. I only know of a few copies in existence, and they're kept locked away. It's called ' _ _Oblivion and the mind__ ,' and was written…well, many years ago. It's been outlawed in several countries - not Skyrim, thankfully - and is considered the most controversial and useful books on Summoning by those aware of its existence. Where did you get this?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

Kyra paused. She didn't want anyone to know she was Dovahkiin, and saying she received it as a gift from the Greybeards would raise more questions than she was willing to deal with. "I can't say," she said truthfully. "But I didn't know of its importance until now."

He closed the book and stared at it for a minute, before slowly passing it back to her. "Keep good care of it," he said, although he seemed to pain him to give it back. "How much experience Summoning do you have?"

"Only a little at the moment. I started just a few weeks ago, and although I can Summon a Familiar with ease, I only have passing knowledge of the other Summons and haven't attempted any of them yet."

"And how long can you Summon your Familiar for?"

"It depends. Sometimes I can hold the bond for an hour or so, at other times, my concentration slips after just a few minutes," she said, slowly starting to pick up on the flow of normal conversation again.

His eyebrows rose. "And you said you only started this a few weeks ago? That's…impressive. You seem to have a lot of potential."

She didn't reply but inclined her head slightly.

"I understand you've probably travelled a long way, and it's nearing night now. We'll start lessons in the morning."

"Does that mean you'll be teaching me about Summoning then?" She knew the question was childish, but she wanted to be sure,

Phinis looked faintly annoyed, and she made a note not to ask any more inane questions. "That generally is what occurs in lessons, yes. Meet me __outside__ my office by nine tomorrow morning, and we'll start then. Do you have accommodation yet?"

"No, I've only been here an hour or so. Mirabelle sent me straight to you."

He nodded, and headed out of his office, turning left at the door. Kyra hurriedly followed him.

The corridors reminded her of the familiar stone walls in High Hrothgar. Small windows looked out onto the snowy evening, a faint shimmer of blue revealing that there were wards against every window to prevent the warmth escaping.

They passed a large turning and Phinis gestured down it vaguely. "Meals will be served in the hall through there. There isn't a set time for any meal - there's a stasis ward on all the food so help yourself."

She nodded and they continued on for another minute before they came to a large, circular room. A few doors were scattered on the walls, bronze numbers engraved on the wood.

Phinis offered her a small key. "You're in room six. Most of the time, you'd be sharing a hall with the other Summoning students, but seeing as there aren't any, I thought you'd be happier with other students." He looked uncomfortable as he said this, as though he wasn't used to gestures of kindness. "Only a few students have applied for a general course this year - most want specific teaching - so there's plenty of room here."

"I'm sharing with students doing a general course? Who are they?"

His eyebrow twitched. "I wouldn't know - they're not my students," he said stiffly.

"Sorry," she apologised quickly. "I'll see you at nine then?"

He nodded. "And don't expect to dash straight into Summoning just yet - there'll be lots of reading beforehand. ' _ _Oblivion and the mind'__ was intended to be read by experts looking to refine their Summons, and the fact you managed to learn from it is…unexpected. However, that means you haven't learnt the simpler points of Summoning, or the dangers that accompany it. Now, I still have work to do. Goodnight."

He walked off before Kyra could reply. She shrugged, unlocking and entering her new room. It was of modest size, only containing a small bed, desk, wardrobe and bookshelf. There were no decorations, and the bookshelves were empty, but she could solve that easily enough.

Weariness coming upon her suddenly, she yawned and slung her pack on the floor to unpack tomorrow. She barely had enough energy to change into night clothes before collapsing on the bed. Her eyes fluttered close as a warm feeling came from within.

 _ _She was standing in Fort Neugrad, stone and sky stretching out in front of her. The harsh edges of the walls seemed disjointed, the angles discordant and impossible. They grated on her mind and she closed her eyes as reality swayed.__

 _ _Something had happened here. A pervasive feeling of__ wrongness _ _made her breath come quicker, her hands clench into fists, her heart beat faster.__

 _ _She took a step forwards and something crunched beneath her foot.__

 _ _Kyra opened her eyes.__

 _ _Sightless orbs stared up at her from the ground, mouth agape in a contortion of pain. The dead Imperial's body was sprawled at her feet, ribcage crushed beneath her foot and bones splintered. More bodies surrounded her - torn corpses piled high into the sky - and she remembered now, she was the cause, she killed them all.__

 _ _She stumbled through the bodies, tripping over the brutality, looking for something, looking for someone. The maze of bodies led her around sharp corners, the angles biting into her skin, until she found what she was looking for.__

 _ _A scream froze in her mouth, fading before it had existed.__

 _ _She dropped to her knees and crawled over to Alaedra, pulling her warm body into her lap. Alaedra's throat had been slit, and blood seeped from the jagged wound, staining her hands crimson. Alaedra's face was still, almost peaceful, but she wasn't sleeping. Alaedra never slept this quietly.__

 _ _The blood on her hands started to tingle. She wanted to carry on looking at Alaedra, to preserve her face in Kyra's memory, but when the tingle turned into a burn, she glanced down. A light was emanating from her hands, golden cracks creaking over her skin. Fire boiled within the hollow fissures, seething with anger and rage. This was the reason behind the massacre, the reason behind the death of the person she had loved. The fire inside her had always existed.__

 _ _And the cracks grew wider, the fire spilling out and she drowned in broken traces of lost humanity. Fire ate away at her heart, corroded her soul, and just before it consumed her sight, she thought she saw the stars fall from the sky in a blaze of ice.__

* * *

Kyra sighed, leaning back in her chair, and tossed another book to the side. This was the third summoning book she had managed to finish this week. Although she was enjoying taking her mind off the numbness that still lingered, it felt she had done nothing but read recently. Phinis hadn't been joking when he said she wouldn't be Summoning for a while.

Phinis had made her look at the dangers of Summoning before she learnt anything else. Each Summoner had their own method of Summoning and visualizing the bonds, but some were more dangerous than others. And no matter the technique used, addiction had occasionally been in issue in the past. Summoning resulted in an exovitae reaction, and the lingering energy produced a feeling of pleasure in the Summoner. For stronger Summons, the feeling built, and was described as euphoria.

Of course, there were tell-tale signs that the Summoner was addicted. Lethargic behaviour, shaking, and difficulty concentrating were all symptoms of general addiction, but some signs were unique to Summoning. A gold band ringing the iris was the first indicator, and as time continued, their hands and lower arms would turn black, as though coated in ash. Phinis had reassured her that only one in perhaps one thousand Summoners experienced addiction.

Yet the information she discovered was fascinating. She learnt the details of Oblivion, the hierarchy of Dremora, and how to personalise Summoned weapons. She had even touched upon runic Summoning circles, although she hadn't used any yet.

"Kyra?"

She turned around at Phinis's familiar voice.

"Have you finished the most recent book?" he asked, walking into the library.

Kyra nodded. "I finished it a few minutes ago. Can we…am I able to start Summoning a flame atronach yet?" she asked carefully.

Phinis hesitated. "I don't see why not - you've certainly shown you were competent with the theory on the test I gave you a couple of days ago."

Excitement banished the numbness and she nearly leapt from her seat in her haste to follow Phinis to the designated Summing room. It was only a few minutes from the library, and the large circular room was almost completely unfurnished. A few reference books were stacked in the corner, magika replenishing potions on top, but the rest of the room was plain - designed for focus.

Phinis waited by the side of the room as she walked to the centre, recalling all she had learnt recently. Falling back to the familiar trance, she could easily feel her Familiar's bond, but not one that correlated to a flame atronach. ' _ _Oblivion and the mind'__ said each bond resonated with a unique frequency, just as her Familiar had a unique signature - she just had to find it.

She strove for it, shattering the trance several times in her effort. But by the end of the day, she hadn't Summoned a flame atronach and it wasn't for lack of trying.

Phinis had warned her not to expect to accomplish this immediately, but she had been hoping she would be able to Summon within the five hours she had spent trying to find the bond. At least she could concentrate on Summoning a flame atronach instead of reading reference books - she'd have all of tomorrow, and the rest of the week to Summon her first flame atronach.

But despite knowing this, she was in a bad mood as she stalked to the food hall, quickly grabbing a meal and seating herself on one of the many tables that filled the large hall. It was almost empty - it was too late for lunch, and too early for supper - but there were a few mages scattered around. Most were old and looked like they worked here as lecturers, but there were two younger mages sitting a few seats away from her. Sounds of their conversation drifted over to her and she couldn't help but listen in.

"I can't believe you did that," the dunmer hissed, eyes wide with indignation. "If I wasn't so skilled in Restoration magic, I'd be covered in burns."

"Relax," the khajit said. "J'Zargo may have…miscalculated but you were never in any __real__ harm."

"The scrolls exploded!"

J'Zargo raised a smooth eyebrow, although it was difficult to tell with all the fur. "And that was the purpose for which J'Zargo designed them."

"Yet you didn't say they would also injure me." She frowned, crossing her arms.

"J'Zargo said they would kill the undead. J'Zargo was unaware there would be any side-effects, but they completed their purpose, did they not?"

"You could have at least warned me you hadn't properly tested them."

Kyra was about to stand up and take her food to her room to eat in peace, when an unusual scent wafted towards her, courtesy of her Dov soul. The aroma was sharp and tingled with power, the smell of smoke and ash imbued within it.

It was familiar, in the way that a half-remembered dream is, or a story forgotten for several years until something triggered it to ruse up again.

This particular smell sent her spiraling back to Morrowind, to the desolate landscape of the Ashlands, to the clear waters of the Ascadian isles, to the swooping hills of the Grasslands. And…to climbing trees, twisted by magic into the homes of the Telvanni wizards.

It fell into place.

"You're a Telvanni," she breathed.

She'd obviously said it a little too loudly, because the dunmer drew in a shocked breath, and glanced at her, eyes wide and a little accusing. "I don't know what you're talking about." The words were sharp.

Kyra instantly realised she'd sad the wrong thing, and tried to back-track. "No, of course not. I was just talking to myself." She shifted awkwardly.

But J'Zargo didn't let it go. "You are a Telvanni mage of Morrowind? They are famous magic users. J'Zargo wonders why you want to hide that from people."

The dunmer's shoulders fell in defeat, and Kyra internally cursed J'Zargo.

"Fine. Yes, you're right. I was hoping I could escape people's expectations, but it doesn't seem likely now, does it?" She fixed Kyra with an accusing look once more, and then blinked.

Kyra winced. "I'm sorry. I should have thought before saying anything."

"How did you know? I've disguised my magical signature." She didn't look irritated anymore, instead curious. She kept darting surreptitious looks to Kyra's eyes.

Kyra grimaced. The dunmer obviously recognised her as Nightingale, but had the sense not to say anything. She should have done the same. "You smell of magic and smoke. Like all Telvanni mages."

"J'Zargo did not smell anything of the sort," he interrupted. "J'Zargo suspects you are making this up." He didn't look happy at being 'out-smelled' by a nord.

Curious, she sought out his scent, and her eyes widened involuntarily. She could smell his power, the strength of his magic as it hovered around him like a tactile cloud. The scent of herbs and spices also wafted towards her - was that the smell of Elsweyr?

"Why do you stare at J'Zargo as though you have never seen a Khajit before?" he growled, tail twitching.

She shook her head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

"J'Zargo thinks that you are just in awe of his magic. Someday, J'Zargo will be a great mage."

Irritation rose up at his words. Although his strength in magic seemed to be formidable, his arrogance set her on edge. "You seem to be sure of yourself," she said jaggedly, letting out a trickle of her anger.

"There is much for J'Zargo to be sure of. There is skill in magic, there is charm, and there is a strong will. J'Zargo will be successful some day." He then paused, a grin stretching across his face. She caught a glimpse of sharp teeth. "J'Zargo thinks he could beat you in a duel easily."

Kyra laughed, shaking her head. "You wouldn't last two minutes. You don't want to know how people I face end up." Her throat tightened. She hadn't meant to admit that.

"How about a mage's duel?" J'Zargo challenged, his eyes gleaming. "I meet you outside Winterhold and we fight. First to submit, loses."

An instinct that wasn't quite hers rose up to defend her honour. "Fine. What does the victor receive?"

J'Zargo smirked again. "J'Zargo will receive the knowledge that he is better than you."

Kyra sucked in a breath, anger rising up in her. She glared at him, but was only met with a raised eyebrow, and an arrogant expression. Suddenly not hungry, she left her meal on the table and stalked out of the hall, J'Zargo's mocking "see you tomorrow at midday" ringing after her.

Once in the corridor, she leant against the cool stone, drawing in a few shaking breaths and gradually feeling her anger dwindle.

A footstep sounded behind her, and she whirled around. The female dunmer turned to face her, and opened her mouth.

Kyra cut her off, not unkindly. "What's your name?"

"Brelyna," she answered. "But Nightingale…I'm taking classes with J'Zargo. He's good with destruction magic. Like, really good. He's arrogant, but it's not without cause. I know it isn't my place. But a mage's duel isn't a good idea."

"It's fine," she said, although she was starting tor regret her impetuosity. She wouldn't use the voice voluntarily, and could only Summon a Familiar. And although she was skilled with her swords, this was a mage's duel. Swords had no place there. "I'll think of something," she said instead of voicing her concerns. "But it's good to see a dunmer here. Which course are you taking?"

"A general course, which means I have to share a dorm with J'Zargo. There are only a few other students doing the same course, and I heard there was a conjuration student staying in our dorm. I haven't seen him though."

"I've been reading in the library until late most nights, so that explains why I haven't seen you," she said. "You're studying conjuration? You're looking at necromancy?"

She sighed, wondering how many times she'd need to have this conversation. "Not exactly. I'm studying Summoning, not necromancy. Summoning is completely different, thank the Gods."

Brelyna nodded, although she still looked a little wary. "If you say so. I need to go now, Tolfdir is teaching us advanced wards tomorrow and we need to read up about them. Good luck with J'Zargo tomorrow."

Kyra bit her lip. "It'll be fine," she said, although she no longer quite believed that.

* * *

Freshly fallen snow crunched underfoot as she made her way out of Winterhold. J'Zargo had told her to meet by the fallen tree a few minutes walk outside of the city, and she hoped Phinis wouldn't notice her absence. Although students were free to leave the college, mage's duels were frowned upon between students.

Her swords were a comforting weight on her shoulders as she walked. She couldn't use them in the duel, but she didn't trust J'Zargo not to go to extreme lengths to ensure his superiority over her.

J'Zargo was already there when she arrived. He was casting continuous streams of flame into the snow, revealing the frozen ground beneath. She cleared her throat.

"J'Zargo was beginning to wonder whether you would come, or whether you were stay hidden in the college."

"I have more pride than that."

He smirks. "Are you ready to begin?" He raises a hand and fire flickered to life in his palm.

Kyra opened her mouth to reply, but paused. Something felt off.

She held up a hand to stop J'Zargo. He bristled in indignation, but she ignored him and paced around in a circle, trying to identify anything out of place. She sniffed at the air, and thought she smelt the faint slickness of oil before it was whisked away by the wind.

J'Zargo lowered his hand. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. I-" The wind changed direction. Her senses were suddenly bombarded with the scent of oil and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. As she did, something caught her eye - an almost indiscernible ripple in the air about twenty metres from her. Several ripples, in fact, and they seemed to be coming closer. The oiliness in the air built and where had she smelt that before? Where had she…

"Thalmor!" she shouted and dove to the side to avoid a golden sword that appeared from the ripple and split the air where she had been standing. The ripples fluctuated and then faded, revealing three Thalmor agents, swords raised and eyes flashing.

J'Zargo spun around, fur standing on end and fire flickering in his hands once more.

Kyra quickly sought the void, as she had started terming the trance, and Summoned her Familiar. Her wolf bounded towards the nearest Thalmor agent and leapt, digging ghostly fangs into his arm. The Thalmor agent let out a yell, kicking the Familiar off him. He advanced towards J'Zargo, who met him with a feral grin.

Kyra drew her swords as the other two agents started towards her, ducking to avoid to the first few blows before engaging them. She defended, managing to send a few strikes at them, but she quickly found herself on the backfoot, retreating as they pressed forwards. She hadn't been practising lately, and her form was rusty.

A kick sent her sprawling to the ground and she groaned, chest aching. She sent a quick glance over towards J'Zargo and smiled as she saw him set an agent's clothes on fire.

She struggled to her feet, hurriedly defending against the newest onslaught of attacks. Her Familiar joined the fray, but a casual sword strike ripped his spectral form and he was banished back to Oblivion. She tried to retreat, hoping for enough space to Summon him back again, but the Thalmor agents pressed forwards, not giving her the chance to rest.

A sword glanced off her shoulder and she stifled a cry of pain. Her glass armour - although impressive - was still vulnerable to such powerful blows. Another strike hit her leg and she went down on one knee, blood flowing freely. Tears sprung up in the corner of her eyes as a sword hilt caught her forehead and she swayed, glimpsing J'Zargo sprinting towards her from the corner of her eye.

An agent brandished his sword high and slowly started to bring it down on her.

She could defend herself. She could, but she didn't want to - not after what the thu'um was responsible for, not after the destruction it had caused. But her instinctual need to survive was stronger. It overrode her fear and she could feel the power swelling and rumbling in her lungs, waiting to be released. The fire started raging. She had no choice but to let it go.

"FUS RO DAH!"

The force sent the Thalmor agents flying backwards, and they sprawled on the snow, cursing in a foreign language. She approached them, confidence trickling back. The raging fire had turned into ice.

" _ _Yol vey__ ," she said calmly, and the fire whip appeared. She sent it towards the Thalmor in soft amusement. The whip coiled around the neck of one agent, slowly constricting even as the flames licked at his throat. He screamed, clawing at his throat, but the light faded from his eyes. She smiled.

The other two agents attacked. One was met by a swift shard of ice sent from J'Zargo, who was snarling in anger. It pierced the agent's chest and he fell to the floor with a soft thump, robes twisted beneath him.

The final agent sent a crackling bolt of electricity towards her, almost too fast for the eye to see.

" _ _Klo__ ," she whispered, and time slowed. She stepped casually around the electricity, seeing it slowly undulate in the air, and curiously dipped a finger into it. Kyra could feel a tingle starting on her skin, but before it could harm her, she scooped it into her hand and reversed its motion. She sent it back towards the Thalmor, and as time reverted to its usual speed, it impacted with his chest. He convulsed silently and then dropped to the ground.

Kyra approached him calmly, laying a finger on his neck to check for a pulse. She smiled when there wasn't one, and wiped her swords clean on his robes, before turning to face J'Zargo. He looked little worse for wear, clothes singed in places and blood matting his fur.

Her mind felt strangely calm, disjointed from the violence. She knew she should have cared - but she didn't.

"We should get rid of the bodies," she told J'Zargo. "You should burn them."

She wasn't even sure he could look uncertain until that moment. "They…they attacked us." He didn't seem aware of the trails of frost seeping from his hands.

"Well observed," she said, and the words seemed familiar, as though she had said them to someone before.

"You don't seem to care," J'Zargo said, swallowing. "You just…you used the voice."

She raised an eyebrow. "I am the dragonborn, after all. I wouldn't be a very good one if I couldn't use the voice now, could I?"

His tail paused its incessant twitching and his body went rigid with shock. "You're the dragonborn? J'Zargo wonders why you didn't use the voice sooner."

"I didn't use it because…I-because I-" Her mind looped, and suddenly everything came rushing back. She saw the violence around her and she remembered the detached joy she had felt while killing them. Her throat tingled with the memory of the thu'um and she wanted to throw up. She had tried not to use it, she had tried so hard, but she hadn't been strong enough to hold back her instincts.

She staggered, and would have fallen to the ground had something warm not supported her, and she looked into the eyes of J'Zargo. The arrogance in them had faded, replaced by faint worry instead.

Her injures protested at the action and she couldn't hold back a cry. "Do-do you know any healing spells?" she asked through gritted teeth.

He paused, eyes searching hers, before nodding slowly. "They are not J'Zargo's speciality, but yes, he is proficient. Hold still."

The warmth of a healing spell washed over her body and she sighed in relief, even as the turbulent emotions remained. J'Zargo quickly healed himself too, before looking at her, his eyes narrowed.

"J'Zargo wonders if you are okay now. You seemed…different, when you were fighting the Thalmor agents."

She swallowed. "I-yes. I was cold. I almost-" She choked off what she had been about to say - that she had almost __enjoyed__ their pain. "I can'tlet that happen again."

J'Zargo didn't say anything for a while, and when he changed the topic, she was glad. "Why did they attack us?" he asked.

Sh grimaced, before walking over to the bodies and searching their pockets for anything that might give her a clue. The cool touch of parchment greeted her fingers as she was searching the robes of the agent impaled by the ice spike, and she pulled out a small note.

 _ _Kyra Nightingale is to be killed. She brings the darkness.__

 _ _~A__

She frowned at the cryptic words. The __A__ could be anyone - but it was unlikely to be anyone other than Ancano. She just needed to find out why.

"What does it say?" J'Zargo asked from behind her, his tone curious. He seemed to have mostly recovered.

"Nothing," she said, putting it in her pocket. "Just that I was to be killed. It doesn't say why." She left out the last sentence, and then tried to smile at him. "Good news for you though - at least you weren't the target."

His expression didn't change, but he nodded, and his body lost some of its tension.

"You'd probably better burn the bodies. We don't want anyone asking questions."

J'Zargo nodded again, his tail twitching. With a few smooth movements, he brought fire to his hands and directed it at the corpses. Smoke slowly spiraled into the air.

"J'Zargo should head back now," he said quietly. "His absence may have been missed."

"No mage's duel?" she asked, although she wasn't surprised. Not after that little encounter.

"J'Zargo has seen you are a great warrior and mage. He will…reevaluate his opinion of you." There was a trace of humour in there, and despite herself, she smiled.

"You know J'Zargo? You may just grow on me."


	25. Endless space

She breathed in deep, sending out mental tendrils of thought towards the humming threads. The threads for her Familiar and her flame atronach was easily identified and she brushed past them, pressing deeper. The thread for a frost atronach was weaker, pulsing intermittently, but she ignored that too, continuing deeper as she pictured herself venturing further into the darkness of a cave.

A headache built up but she maintained her concentration, reaching, reaching…

Kyra came across a new thread. It was barely pulsing, but the ribbon of energy felt older, felt stronger, than all the others she had passed. She had only ventured this deep a few times before, and each time, she had failed to Summon a storm atronach. But not this time.

She grasped the thread, trying to follow it as far down as she could as a tingle began in her body. The further down she spiraled, the more the sensation built, until the energy pulsed inside her, each burst causing explosions of colour to seep behind her eyelids. The energy travelled through her veins, and collected in her outstretched hand, making it grow hotter and hotter, until she could scarcely bear the heat. She had to release it. So she did.

Immediately, pleasure curled in her stomach, crept over her body. She gasped from the feeling, her lips curving into a smile, before opening her eyes.

The now-familiar violet abyss formed in front of her, edges jagged and sharp before contorting and fading into softer curves. And then her storm atronach appeared and she took an involuntary step backwards.

The pleasure from the Summon soothed her headache and lessened her tiredness as she stared in awe at what she had Summoned - what she was responsible for bringing to Nirn. But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the bond between her and her storm atronach started to weaken. She tried to keep hold of it, but it slipped between her fingers, slick and tricky, and her storm atronach disappeared once more.

Kyra sighed, both because of her failure to maintain the bond, and the loss of the pleasure, and turned to face Phinis. "Sorry I couldn't keep it here for longer," she said, panting slightly. It had taken a lot of effort to form the connection.

"You shouldn't be apologising," Phinis said. "You've come a remarkable way in such a short period of time - I've never seen anyone pick up Summoning this quickly. I've had more than a few apprentices, and if they'd only been Summoning for as long as you, I doubt many of them could even Summon a frost atronach for any longer than ten seconds."

She offered a half-smile at his praise, but something twisted in her stomach. The only reason she had been able to pick it up so quickly was because she concentrated on it. And when she said concentrating, she meant every thought, every action, was consumed by Summoning. She couldn't let her attention sway for a second, because if she did, memories of sightless eyes and the pain of missing Alaedra rose up in her mind.

Someone had once said that ignoring and running away from your problems would only end badly, but she was an expert at doing both. And ignoring them was better than the alternative, of dwelling on them, and losing sight of what was in front of her. Because the past couldn't hurt her - or so she told herself late at night, when she couldn't bear to sleep - and the present was all that mattered. Summoning kept her mind off the memories, and the feeling of pleasure whenever she completed a successful Summon wiped away all feelings of pain or numbness. And for a few glorious, golden moments, everything was right in the world.

Of course, the feeling soon faded, and only a memory of the pleasure was left, a pale imitation. And that was why she needed to build up to stronger Summons.

Phinis continued talking. "Besides, it's good to be prepared at the moment. Skyrim seems to be getting more dangerous by the second, what with dragons swooping around and setting towns on fire. Oblivion knows what the dragonborn is doing now."

She swallowed, and made a half-hearted murmur of agreement. No one at the college knew she was Dovahkiin - aside from J'Zargo - and she wanted to keep it that way. Following the strange attack of the Thalmor, it seemed J'Zargo had upheld his promise, and hadn't told anyone that she was the dragonborn. Stranger still, her and J'Zargo almost seemed to be friendly with each other.

Phinis seemed to take her murmur for an affirmative. "I know. And a colleague of mine swore that on one trip from Windhelm to here, he was attacked by no less than two bears and three Sabre cats, and a suspicious looking rabbit followed him for several miles. Although I'm not so sure about the last one," Phinis added as an afterthought. "He has a reputation for having a little too much to drink on occasion. Plus, there have been reports of people disappearing inside Dwemer ruins. More than usual." He shook his head in disbelief. "Seems the whole of Skyrim is headed to Oblivion."

Kyra forced a smile, although a chill raced over her body. "At least there'll be company."

He chuckled wryly, rubbing his chin. "Anyway, do you fancy lending me a hand tomorrow?"

She cocked her head to the side, interested. "With what?"

"An old ruin has been uncovered recently - Saarthal - and the researchers there have found a whole library of books focused on Summoning. They want me to catalogue them, see if they're useful. I could use some help."

She bit her lip, internally wishing she could just spend the day Summoning, but nodded anyway, curiosity getting the better of her. How many chances would she get to go to such an ancient ruin? She'd even heard rumours it used to be the capital of Skyrim, before some sort of catastrophe occurred.

* * *

Saarthal was massive. The sprawling rocks were partly hidden by cliffs of ice, but that didn't decrease the enormity of it. The only means of descending to the entrance lay in icy wooden bridges that creaked disturbingly every time Kyra placed a tentative foot down, and she gripped the handrail tightly.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally set foot on solid ground again, and looked around for the entrance. Phinis had arrived earlier than her, and was probably already inside, starting on the cataloging of Summoning books. He never seemed to stop working.

The interior was even bigger than she had expected. The large stone cavern descended into the ground, and a feeling of austerity and solemnness hovered in the air, as though the very rocks remembered how old they were. Kyra was surprised to find that it seemed almost comfortable in its age, the way she imagined a sentient tree might feel. And then she realised just how odd that thought was, and promptly stopped thinking.

She found Phinis poring over some dusty tomes, face creased with concentration. She waited patiently, knowing how much he hated to be interrupted. After several minutes, he carefully placed the book to the left of him, where it joined an ever growing pile, and led her over to another small table.

He quickly explained how to catalogue the Summoning books, and how to fill in a short description of each book. A labeling system was available, and when she found a book she deemed useful, she'd need to place a number on it, so the researchers would know to return it to the college when they finished their excavation of the ruins.

"I wouldn't normally do this," Phinis said, "but I trust you enough to leave you to do this on your own. You can make your own mind up about which books are useful, but if you have any questions, I'll be at my own desk, over there." He waved vaguely to the side.

She nodded, and he hurried off to his workplace, not willing to be separated from the books for long. She started on her own pile of books, but had only managed to catalogue one - it was useless; they already had several copies of it back in the college - before a familiar face caught her eye and distracted her. She made her way over to where J'Zargo was standing idly, tossing a fireball between his hands.

"J'Zargo! What are you doing here?" she asked.

He turned around, extinguishing the fire, and offered her a sharp grin. "Tolfdir has allowed J'Zargo's class a day off. Apparently, it will provide us with the chance to practise our magic in a real environment, although everything down here is likely already dead."

She raised an eyebrow. "The dead can still be dangerous. Haven't you ever encountered draugr?"

"No, but J'Zargo has heard tales of their ferocity. They may prove a worthy fight."

Kyra's lips twitched at his confidence. It was still irritating, but but it was no longer the outright annoyance it had originally caused. If anything, she found herself starting to appreciate his humour.

They chatted a while longer, and although Kyra caught Phinis glaring at her several times from his workplace, she only bid J'Zargo goodbye when Tolfdir and his class came to collect him. Kyra gave Brelyna a smile, which was returned, and she watched as the class disappeared down one of the paths that led deeper into Saarthal. She wanted to follow them, but knew she couldn't.

Instead, she returned to her pile of books, sighing faintly and picked up the nearest. Skimming through it, she wrote a brief description, and labeled it with a five-digit number to be returned to the college.

She steadily worked throughout the day, trying not to disturb Phinis too much. On the rare occasion when she needed to double-check something with Phinis, he was generally happy to help (unless he was interrupted from something particularly interesting, and he snapped at her to go away). Despite his short stature, he made up for it with sheer ferocity and biting words. Kyra would almost have been insulted had she known it wasn't personal, and he would be like this with anyone. In fact, she quite suspected that he was more lenient with her than anyone else.

They worked until the evening, when most of the researchers had headed back to the college as the light faded. She yawned, setting down the latest book, and stretched. Her joints crunched and she sighed in relief. A thought occurred to her as she was packing up her belongings.

"Shouldn't Tolfdir and his class be back by now?" she asked Phinis, who was organising some items.

Phinis paused, before he resumed stacking books, slower now. "I'm sure they'll be out soon - it isn't that late. Tolfdir's too responsible for anything else."

She nodded, not convinced, but let it go. Phinis obviously wouldn't know anything. Still, a faint nagging feeling remained, even as she exited the gloom of Saarthal and made her way back to the college. She couldn't help feeling that something had happened in the furthest reaches of Saarthal.

* * *

Kyra leant against the wall, panting but grinning. Her storm atronach hovered in front of her, a faint creaking sound echoing every few seconds. The bond between her and her storm atronach was secure and strong. She knew she wouldn't have the power to keep the storm atronach here for long periods of time, but she could keep him on Mundus for several minutes, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

The pleasure was still filtering through her, heady and strong. It had faded since the initial Summon, but despite a few minutes passing, it still lingered in her body.

"Congratulations," Phinis said, showing her a rare smile. "You've completed one of the most difficult Summons. You'll need to maintain it for longer to be fully effective, of course," he said, as her strength faded, along with the storm atronach, "but I shouldn't think you'll have too much trouble with that."

She let out a drawn out breath. "I managed it," she said tiredly. The pleasure had faded now, leaving the world just a little colder, and faint worry replaced it. She still hadn't heard anything from J'Zargo.

It seemed Phinis had been reading her thoughts, because he said, "Apparently, something happened in Saarthal last night."

She stiffened. "What? Is J'Zargo alright? Was anyone hurt?"

He held up a hand to forestall her questions. "I don't know the details, I'm afraid, but no one was hurt so badly a few healing spells couldn't fix them. There have been rumours that something was found below Saarthal, but I have a difficult time separating fiction from fact. I'm sure you'll find the truth soon enough."

He gestured at her to continue, and she forced worry for J'Zargo to the back of her mind as she strove for her storm atronach once more.

Later that night, she knocked softly on J'Zargo's door. She waited, but there was no answer. She didn't try again.

Her sleep was troubled by dreams of violence and death, and she woke sometime in the small hours of the morning, her skin tingling. She couldn't bring herself to sleep again and kept herself awake through the night, reading ' _ _Oblivion and the mind__ " by the light of a candle.

By the time the soft light of sun peered over the horizon in an unusually clear morning, she felt as though she hadn't slept at all. She took a few sips of a stamina potion, but the alertness that settled felt fake, artificial. A foul mood descended on her as she prowled the corridors in search of food, the coldness of the college seeping into her bones and setting her teeth on edge. She wondered how none of the other mages seemed to feel the coldness. Maybe warming spells existed. If they did, she was almost certain the mages were cheating.

Breakfast only alleviated her foul mood slightly and she was tempted to tell Phinis she wasn't in the mood for Summoning today - although she wasn't sure he'd believe her, as she'd only ever shown tempered enthusiasm before - but she knew if she didn't go, she'd have nothing better to do than dwell on the memories.

It was these thoughts that plagued her as she crossed in the Hall of the Elements…and stopped in her tracks. She could have __sworn__ there wasn't usually a giant levitating orb in the centre of the hall.

She blinked once. Twice. But the orb didn't fade away - so it wasn't a sleep-deprived hallucination - and she slowly started to believe that there really __was__ a giant levitating orb in front of her. And really, why not? She'd seen weirder things.

Kyra stepped closer, mesmerised by the sight. The orb seemed to pulse with energy, the air almost tangible with power, and she stepped closer still.

"What are you?" she asked the orb.

"No one knows," a familiar voice said from behind her.

She spun around, and saw J'Zargo standing a few metres away, staring at the orb too.

"J'Zargo found it in the depths of Saarthal," he continued. "It was very strange - J'Zargo fears he is going mad."

She frowned. "How come?"

"Someone called Nerien spoke to J'Zargo in a vision. He is part of a Psijic Order, and wanted J'Zargo for something, although he only spoke in riddles. Tolfdir has only heard of this Psijic Order in rumours, and so he has tasked J'Zargo to find out more information about both Saarthal, and that thing." He gestured towards the orb.

Bad mood forgotten, Kyra raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought you would have sounded more excited about researching something that could be so important."

J'Zargo sighed. "I would, had the information not been stolen by an idiot student. Someone called Orthorn." He snarled his name. "So J'Zargo has to track him down. J'Zargo knows where he is, but he has a feeling it won't be so easy."

"When are you leaving?" Kyra asked.

"Soon," was his only reply. He inclined his head towards her, cast one last look at the orb, and walked away.

Kyra stared after him, and the only thought that flashed through her mind was that none of this would end well.

She didn't see J'Zargo for quite a while after that, and assumed he was off, collecting the stolen books. She threw herself into Summoning with a new passion, managing to Summon a storm atronach with more ease than ever. Phinis hinted that she could start to learn how to Summon a Dremora too, and the excitement banished the numbness.

When she next saw J'Zargo, a few weeks later, he seemed quieter than usual, more solemn. He was leaning against a wall, tail flicking lethargically and staring at nothing. She approached him cautiously.

"Are you okay?"

He jolted, as though he hadn't seen her approaching, and raised his eyes to meet hers. He offered a grin, but it looked tired. "J'Zargo is fine. He has managed to collect the information he needed."

"That's good then, isn't it?" She tried not to be unsettled by the lack of J'Zargo's usual personality. He seemed worn, and only a faint trace of confidence lingered.

"J'Zargo had to venture into the Midden for more information. A horrible place, filled with dripping water and dampness." He shivered, fur bristling. "And another of the Psijic Order has spoken to J'Zargo. He gave a message filled with warnings and consequences it seems only J'Zargo can prevent."

"They must want a mage of great power then," she joked, trying to lighten the mood, but it was the wrong thing to say.

J'Zargo growled, clenching his fists. "You don't understand! J'Zargo isn't strong enough to prevent this disaster. Destruction magic - that he can do - but anything else? J'Zargo doesn't have the power to stop the Eye of Magnus from destroying everything." He slumped to the wall again, glaring at the ground.

Kyra swallowed, and tentatively lay a hand on is shoulder. He tensed beneath her touch. "Look at me," she said, and repeated it more firmly when he refused. He sighed, finally lifting his gaze.

She swallowed, and drew courage up from deep inside her. "I don't know what this disaster is. I don't know how the Eye of Magnus causes it. But I do know you can prevent it. You're always saying that you're a powerful mage. But now you actually need to __believe__ it, rather than simply boasting to cover up your desperation to prove yourself. This is your chance."

J'Zargo shuddered, seeming to fight an internal battle, before looking at her, wide-eyed. "Thank you," he said quietly. "J'Zargo is leaving for Mzulft tomorrow, and he needs the knowledge that someone believes in him."

She smiled awkwardly, and shifted the conversation slightly. "Why Mzulft?"

"The Psijic order said J'Zargo needs the Staff of Magnus, and apparently going to Mzulft will help him locate it. At least J'Zargo isn't going alone - some of the senior mages are accompanying him."

"The Staff of Magnus?" Kyra asked, frowning. "How does that help?"

J'Zargo shrugged. "J'Zargo does not know. He suspects the Psijic order are making it up as they speak - they explain things very poorly. And there is something about them - something in the way they speak and watch J'Zargo through calculating eyes - that sets his fur on end."

Not knowing what to say, she simply nodded. "How long will you be gone?"

He tugged lightly on a whisker. "Over a month, most likely. It is difficult to judge - people seem to want to keep J'Zargo in the dark."

"Good luck," she told him seriously. "I would stay for longer, but it's getting dark and you'd better get prepared for tomorrow. I'm heading to bed now anyway."

She bid him goodbye, wishing him good luck once more, before returning to her room. Tiredness descended on her suddenly, and she barely had time to change out of her clothes and into her nightclothes before she fell into bed. Sleep took her.

* * *

She blinked, slowly coming awake, and glanced blearily out of the window. It was still dark outside, and the only light was shed by the two pale moons. Yawning, she stretched, and then frowned when she realised her body was tingling slightly - that must have been what had woken her up.

Kyra sat up in bed, examining her hands, but couldn't see any reason behind the tingling. She withheld a gasp when it suddenly grew more intense, and became a faint itch. Scratching slightly, she shifted in discomfort, but the itching didn't seem to lessen. Instead, a strange feeling of restlessness came over her, making her legs twitch slightly.

Sighing at the loss of her sleep, she quickly changed into more appropriate clothes and slipped silently out of her door, making her way along the winding corridors. Her feet were bare against the cool stone as she absentmindedly scratched at the pervasive itch, before making her way out into the courtyard.

She stayed there for a minute or two, but the feeling of restlessness and the itching only seemed to increase. Not knowing what else to do, she slowly made her way over the crumbling bridge and onto the snowy landscape that stretched for miles in each direction. She was only wearing thin clothes but the coldness somehow failed to touch her as she walked further and further into the desolate wilderness, barren trees stark against the ghostly snow.

She stopped by one such tree. It was stunted and twisted, branches reaching into the sky in a grotesque imitation of curling hands, and gently traced a finger over the gnarled bark. Her touch felt more sensitive than usual, and she shivered at the sensation.

Her hands grew hot. They started to burn with heat, scorching her, and she gasped as the pressure in her hands built. It climbed, energy pulsing in her hands, and she didn't know what was happening, she didn't know what she was doing, only that she needed to release it…

And before she knew what she was doing, she had Summoned a flame atronach.

The pressure stopped. Her hands returned to normal. The itching abated.

And then pleasure crashed into her, making her rock back on her heels. It was stronger than it had ever been, even when she Summoned her storm atronach, and a wild giggle escaped her mouth before she could call it back. Her body felt __alive__. She could see in crystalline brilliance, the light of the moons easily shedding enough light, and she could hear the faint howls of wolves beyond the mountains. Sniffing, Kyra could detect the smell of ash and snow carried on the wind.

The pleasure started to fade from her and she staggered at the loss of the feeling, before regaining her senses. She looked at her flame atronach, and at her hands. She smiled.

Kyra returned to bed, the smell of ash and snow still drifting in the wind, and fell asleep to dreams of Summoning.


	26. A shallow abyss

She didn't say anything to Phinis the next day, and continued her practise as usual, throwing herself into it with renewed vigour. The pleasure she felt whenever she successfully completed a Summon seemed more potent than usual, although not as strong as the previous night.

That night, when she woke once more, her skin prickling, she didn't hesitate to slip out of the college, knowing what is was. She made her way to the same jagged tree, feeling the itching increase in intensity, and Summoned her storm atronach. It was easier than it had ever been before and she pulled her atronach to Mundus effortlessly, gasping as the pleasure flowed through her once more.

She stayed outside for a little longer than she had the night before, taking the time to appreciate the dark beauty of the landscape around her. When the cold started to numb her fingers, she Summoned her Familiar to keep her company on the walk back to the college, and she slipped into bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

For the next two weeks, she woke up at night with the now familiar sensation of crawling skin. It seemed to get worse each night and she couldn't stop herself from scratching as she hurriedly made her way outside to Summon. Raised scratches started to show on her skin, but in the coldness of winter, wearing long sleeves was expected.

Phinis seemed a little suspicious of how tired she was in the morning, and how easily she could now complete a Summon, but didn't say anything. His pride overrode his suspicion, and he had taken to subtly boasting about her in the corridor. She felt a little more hollow each time, but kept quiet.

She focused on Summoning instead.

* * *

"Storm atronach!" Phinis shouted.

She focused on the unique humming bond and flicked her wrist to Summon a storm atronach.

"Familiar!"

She banished her storm atronach and quickly Summoned her Familiar.

"Frost atronach!"

This continued in a similar vein for several minutes, until at last, Kyra was leaning against a wall for support, sucking in desperate breaths.

"I...can't Summon…any more," she gasped. A twisting emptiness coiled inside her, which she now recognised as magika exhaustion.

Phinis straightened, and handed her a restore magika potion. She took it gratefully, but grimaced at the sour taste.

"Can't alchemists ever make this taste nicer? It tastes like oil."

Phinis raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching despite his apparent efforts to remain stern. "You ask this every time."

"And yet they still haven't fixed it," Kyra said, draining the last of the potion and wrinkling her nose.

"Yes well…" Phinis trailed off, and then changed the topic. "Have you recovered? I want to move onto something different."

"What is it?"

"Summoning a Dremora. They're notoriously difficult to keep control of, yet alone Summoning them in the first place, so you might be best starting off with a runic Summoning circle."

"Oh, I've read about those," she said. "But only briefly. The book barely touched upon it - I think they just mentioned it by name and then moved on."

"I'm not surprised. Runic summoning circles can't be classified as Summoning, but they can't be classified as necromancy either. They involve Oblivion, but a sacrifice is needed into order to supply the initial power - generally, a blood sacrifice."

Kyra paused.

He noticed. "I understand you may be uncomfortable with this, so I won't pressure you into it. Reading several in-depth books and then directly Summoning should suffice."

She bit her lip, but her curiosity won out. "No, I want to do it. Runic summoning circles sound interesting."

"Good. They have several advantages - they don't take up any magika reserves, and the bond has no risk of being broken, unless one of the runes are destroyed during the Summoning. But for obvious reasons, they can't easily be used in combat."

He headed over to a bookshelf and carefully selected three books, which he handed to her. "Read these over the next few days. I'll guide you through your first summoning circle, and then once you feel confident in that, you can Summon a Dremora directly."

* * *

Kyra knelt in the snow, a Summoning dagger between both hands. It was especially crafted by instances such as these - runic summoning circles. The blade was curved slightly, markings carved into the metal, and the tip glowed with a sickly purple light.

Images of runes flashed across her mind - what they meant, how to carve them, what they would Summon - and she glanced at Phinis a final time. He was standing a few metres to the side of her, overseeing but not interfering. He nodded once, and she turned back.

She started to carve into the snow. The dagger went through the snow, which melted wherever it touched, and sunk into the ground. Kyra moved the dagger as though she was painting, picturing the elegant and succinct Daedric runes, and moved around in a circle. Once the boundary was fixed, she started to work her way inwards - smaller runes for binding and selection, among others.

It was based on a simple design she had seen in one of the books for Summoning a Dremora lord, but she had added a few additional touches to it. The original design had kept the Dremora in close confines, unable to move out of the circle, but Kyra had left out the rune that caused a prison to form. Instead, she carved a rune for 'protection' - the Dremora would be unable to attack or harm her in anyway. Phinis had cautioned her on this, but finally admitted her runes should work.

Runes complete, she stepped out of the circle, and knelt facing it. Breathing slowly out, she clenched her teeth and gently lay the dagger across the palm of her hand, before slicing down in a smooth motion.

Blood blossomed, a crimson flower against her pale skin. Pain followed shortly after, but it was a dull, aching pain that she found easy to deal with. She hovered her hand over the circle and let five droplets of blood trickle onto the central rune - __Oblivion__.

The blood sizzled as it landed, and the runes glowed with power briefly. She hurriedly backed up, keeping her bleeding hand close to her chest, and watched as the circle grew brighter, brighter still. There was a loud sound - a shattering, a crack - and the familiar purple abyss formed above the summoning circle. It was a deeper shade than usual, the purple tinted with red and the edges more jagged.

The abyss convulsed once, almost collapsing in on itself, and then suddenly a Dremora was standing there and contentment was coursing through her. It felt less powerful than she would have expected - probably because it wasn't a direct Summon.

The Dremora stood in the circle, regarding her impassively, before looking away, as though she wasn't worth his time.

She'd never seen one before - only in illustrations - and she took the time to study his features. His dark ebony skin seemed to absorb light, and the crimson of his markings was a stark contrast to the darkness - like blood spilt in the depth of night. Two small horns, signifying his rank, curved from the top of his head, although the left one appeared slightly chipped.

The Dremora still hadn't moved. Maybe he thought he was confined to the circle?

"You can move out of the summoning circle, you know," she said, and her hand twitched for her sword as he turned his gaze from the surroundings to her. She swallowed as the black eyes fell on her.

"You…have not bound me?" the Dremora said slowly, his gravelly voice sending shivers down her spine.

She shook her head wordlessly, and took a step back, feeling Phinis's eyes on her.

The Dremora looked at her a while longer, and then, almost cautiously, placed a foot outside of the circle. And then another. She thought she saw something cross his face that was akin to surprise, but it was gone before she could take note.

Phinis approached her, but kept away from the Dremora. "Would you feel comfortable doing this without my supervision?" he asked her, sending a quick glance towards the Dremora.

She bit her lip, but nodded. "It didn't seem too complicated really. Once I remembered the runes, it was easy from there."

He raised his eyebrows, and then sighed. "I really shouldn't be surprised by now. You seem to pick up everything instinctively. Do you want me to heal that for you?" he asked, indicating her bleeding hand.

"Please."

The golden light of a healing spell washed over her hand, and when the glow faded, her hand was left smooth and unblemished. The tips of her fingers appeared to be smudged with dirt and she idly wiped her hands on her clothes, before turning back to Phinis.

"Now." He clasped his hands together. "I was initially going to spend longer on this, but seeing as you appear confident with it already, I can start teaching you how to directly Summon a Dremora in the next day or so. Do you want to start on that, or spend a little longer on summoning circles?"

She smiled.

It wasn't really a choice.

* * *

If she had been eager before, it was nothing compared to the obsession that descended on her now. She spent every waking hour either devouring books on how to Summon a Dremora, or reaching out to Oblivion to feel her Dremora. Supposedly, it should be easier now that she had already sensed his unique magical signature when she Summoned him via the circle, but it hadn't been so far.

When she went out at night to Summon, she'd always spend a few minutes at the end when her senses were heightened and her body was thrumming with energy to reach out to Oblivion, to try and Summon her Dremora. No luck so far, but she was so __close.__

Yet going out at night was starting to become a disadvantage. She was always half-asleep in the morning, and she consumed stamina potions at a worrying rate, empty bottles building up under her bed. She only disposed of them when she was sure no one would come across her. The only time when the oppressive tiredness fled was directly after a Summon, and the pleasure was coursing through her. So she started Summoning more and more at night, sometimes staying outside for hours on end as she Summoned to the stars. The cold bit at her and invaded her lungs, but it was a price worth paying.

And then she managed it.

One week, four days later, she Summoned a Dremora in the depth of the night.

As her Dremora appeared in front of her, __something__ struck her like a physical blow. The euphoria was stronger than a storm atronach, stronger than anything else, and she couldn't stop a laugh escaping from her mouth as she looked at the Dremora.

And unlike her other Summons, the bond was strong and stable, and she instinctively knew she could keep her Dremora on Mundus for hours at a time.

She couldn't let Phinis know immediately. It was night time now, and she stood in the snow next to her usual tree, looking at the stars above. She'd pretend to Summon her Dremora for the first time tomorrow morning - Phinis couldn't know she was sneaking out at night to Summon.

When she Summoned her Dremora again the next day, and pretended it was the first time, Phinis congratulated her and showed no signs that anything was amiss. She turned away from him, a smile creeping onto her face. She had done it, and her hard work had paid off. Now all she had to do was reap the benefits.

That night, she went to her tree and Summoned her Dremora, riding the waves of euphoria as they crashed into her. She savoured the moment - the moment of complete bliss, of everything being right in the world - and then continued Summoning her Dremora as the moons crept over the night sky. Kyra had no way of telling how long she had been out there for, but seemed several hours had passed.

She repeated this the night after, and the night after that. Sleep no longer held any importance - not when she could be Summoning instead.

And on the fourth night, as she sat on the snow, looking at the moons, her Dremora spoke.

"Why must you Summon me so often, mortal?" His voice was gravelly and low.

She looked at him. In all the times she had Summoned him, aside from the first instance with the runic circle, he hadn't spoken, instead choosing to regard her impassively. Or not so impassively, as it seemed now.

"Why are you asking?"

"Is it impossible for your mortal brain to comprehend that I may be __annoyed__ at the constant Summoning?" he asked harshly. "I am forced to obey your orders."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not ordering you to do anything." His grating voice sent shivers down her spine.

"You are demanding my presence. That is reason enough for me to resent you."

"I doubt you'd be doing much in Oblivion. You're only a Kynval, aren't you?"

He snarled and turned on her so suddenly she flinched backwards, half-drawing her swords. "Cease your incessant talk, mortal. You know nothing of which you speak."

Kyra sighed and the silence returned, no longer quite so peaceful somehow. A thought occurred to her.

"Do you have a name?" Kyra asked. She felt a strange disconnection from herself, as though she was floating above her body, looking as an outsider.

There was a pause. "Yes," he eventually growled, sounding as though it was forced out of him against his will.

"What is it?" Kyra continued, vaguely curious, but the emotion was dulled, blunted.

"What makes you think I would willingly share my name with a mortal?"

She didn't say anything, and instead reached out with her mind to the bond that kept him on Mundus with her mind, and strengthened it. "How about now?"

He stiffened, looking as though he was fighting an internal battle with himself. Beyond words, he growled - it seemed to be his favourite method to communicate his dissatisfaction. "My name is-" And a series of yelps, growls and snarls followed, almost animalistic in their nature.

"What."

He yelped, growled and snarled again.

"Is…is that your name?"

"Yes. Although in your mortal tongue, it would be pronounced __Kruuyal.__ "

Kyra nodded, but her stomach started churning as she felt herself return to her body, and she grimaced in discomfort. "I'm sorry," she said after a while, recognising the feeling of shame.

The dremora looked at her, and she tried not to show how much those eyes discomfited her. "I shouldn't have forced your name out of you," she admitted. And she __did__ feel bad, dremora or not, because no one liked to be controlled, or forced to do something against their will.

He continued to stay silent, and she let out a harsh laugh, self-deprecating. "What sort of person am I anyway, to Summon dremora's in the middle of the night and force them to obey me? To be the cause behind the deaths of allies? To not only kill, but to enjoy it?" She let out a sharp exhale. "And to think people say that the dragonborn is a hero."

The dremora seemed to pay increasing interest as she spoke. "You…are dragonborn?" he asked, and his tone of voice had changed. She shouldn't have admitted she was dragonborn. But there was little he could do to directly harm her. Kyra shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing, ignoring the thundering of her heart.

"You never answered my question, mortal," he said sharply, after a moment, but his voice maintained that same tone. Careful, measured. "Why do you Summon me?"

Kyra hesitated. "Because I want to," she said simply, turning her gaze back to the sky.

There was silence. Then: "Why do you want to?"

"Because I'm lonely," she said, surprising herself with her own honesty. "And because it makes me happy, and it makes me forget."

He didn't speak after that for the rest of the night. But the next night, Kyra initiated a conversation, inhibitions and wariness lowered by the euphoria of the Summoning that thrummed through her veins. To her surprise, the dremora replied, his remarks scathing and blunt, but a welcome change to the stifling, false conversations she had with the elder mages in the college.

As the week wore on, it became a strange habit: she would slip out of the college at midnight, they would talk - more like sending scathing remarks at each other - and she would return a few hours later. She knew she shouldn't be talking to a dremora. She knew it was dangerous. She just didn't care.

Two weeks after the initial conversation, he started on a different note.

"What do you want to forget?"

Kyra jumped, and glared at him. She could have sworn she saw a smirk slip across his face, but it was gone before she could be sure it had ever existed. "What do you mean?"

"You said you Summoned because you wanted to forget. What do you want to forget?"

"I don't think speaking about it will help. I __am__ trying to forget after all, you know," she said, rolling her eyes even as her heart shuddered.

He sighed - or what she had gathered was the dremora equivalent of a sigh. "Trying to repress memories is a cowardly way out."

She stiffened. "I'm not being cowardly," she bit out.

"Yes, you are. You mortals always take the easy way out. You run away from things you should face, you cover up what shouldn't be covered up."

"Kruuyal, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Kyra tried to joke, although her skin crawled. She thought that was the first time she'd addressed him by name.

"And don't think you can distract me. What don't you want to remember?"

Her stomach plummeted, humour forgotten as it blew away on the wind. "I can't say. It's too recent…and I-I…"

"Speak," he interrupted.

She swallowed, about to refuse, but words slipped out without her permission. And somehow, she found herself telling Kruuyal all about fort Neugrad, and the anger that had descended upon her, and the reaction of Alaedra afterwards.

When she finished, she was sucking in desperate breaths, stomach roiling and churning as tears collected in her eyes. She dashed them away, absentmindedly noting her hands looked as though they were covered in dirt, before looking up at him.

He was standing deathly still, looking at her but not saying anything.

She waited for his remarks about how much of a coward she was, and how she shouldn't have run away.

He stirred. "This…this __Alaedra__." He spat out her name. "She condemned you for saving her and destroying the worthless lives of those around you by welcoming your darker side?"

She shook her head, trying to rein in her emotions. This wasn't the reaction she'd expected from him. "It isn't like that. I slaughtered allies as well. They didn't stand a chance against me."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Semantics. But when you welcomed this darker side, were you powerful?"

"Yes. I-I killed them all. Easily."

"And so why is it such a bad thing to repress that side of you? The darkness is a much a part of you as the light, and together, you could be unstoppable. Why do you run from such power?" His eyes held a strange light, and he had taken a step closer to her,

"Why? Because…because I'm afraid," she whispered. "That I won't be able to contain myself and I'll end up killing someone I know."

"You mean Alaedra." He spat her name once more. "Yet she is the reason you're like this."

She narrowed her eyes at Kruuyal. "What do you mean, __like this__?"

"Surely you can't have not noticed how often you're Summoning?" he asked. When she looked at him blankly, he clenched his teeth. "You'll figure it out soon enough."

"No, tell me. What do you mean?"

He growled, and then sent a fireball at the snow. The snow melted, and a shimmering puddle of water remained. "Look in it. Look at yourself."

Kyra frowned, but did as he said, just to humour him. She walked over to the puddle, and looked at her reflection. Something cold seized her heart.

Her eyes stared listlessly back at her, sunken in the sockets. The blue of her lips was a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin, gaunt and ashen. She looked __ill.__

She turned away, bile rising up.

"No," Kruuyal said. "Look at your eyes."

Not wanting to, but not able to refuse, she glanced back at the water. Her eyes still maintained their swirling colours, despite their spiritless appearance. She frowned, wondering what Kruuyal wanted from her, and looked closer, deeper. She thought she saw a flash of gold in her eyes around her pupils, but it was gone as soon as she noticed it, and she backed away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, and refused to look in the water again.

"You idiot mortal. You're so quick to meddle in things you don't fully understand. You don't understand the consequences of this. This is sapping your strength, stealing your power."

"Tell me then!" she shouted, rounding on him as her patience disappeared. "Just tell me."

"Look at your arms. And if you refuse to see then, I will not help you any further." He turned away from her, muttering under his breath. She couldn't make out the words.

She growled, ignoring the fact she sounded suspiciously like Kruuyal, and yanked up her sleeves. Lines of raised scratches littered her arms from when the itching beneath her skin had grown too unbearable. Some had broken the skin, and pale trickles of blood leaked down her arm. Her hands were also covered in scratches, but they looked darker, and she frowned. Her hands seemed as though they were covered in a light dusting of ash, giving her hands a darker appearance.

A memory of something she had read rose up in her mind, and she tried to force it down. She was only partially successful, and she turned on Kruuyal.

"You're wrong," she said, shaking her head. "You're wrong."

He turned back at her, and tilted his head. It seemed over the past few weeks, he had picked up some of her mannerisms. "Is that why you're scratching your arms now?"

Kyra jolted. She had been instinctively raking her fingers up and down her arms to alleviate the itch, the pressure, that had appeared there in the past few minutes. As she took notice, she felt the itch increase, and the feeling of a pervasive coldness accompanied it, sending her into convulsive shivers. But this wasn't new.

She had felt this many times over the past few weeks.

And Summoning was the only thing that would help.

She sent a glance at Kruuyal, wanting him to understand, but he didn't say anything. He just watched her, even as the pressure built until it was pounding in her head, in her body. Spurts of pain raced through her body, and she winced, gritting her teeth.

Her hands moved without her permission.

She flicked a hand at Kruuyal to banish him back to Oblivion, and his body faded. And then she Summoned him back to Mundus again, body tensing in preparation.

Euphoria filled her. She closed her eyes as pleasure replaced the pain, and she gasped in relief, the __completeness__ , the __rightness__ coursing through her.

When the sensation faded, she sagged against the tree, feeling strangely tired as she looked at Kruuyal. He was standing there with an insufferable look of ' _ _I told you so__ '. She hadn't even known he was capable of that until now.

And this time, when the memory of what she read rose in her mind once more, she couldn't force it down again.

 _"_ _ _S__ _ _ome signs of addiction are unique to Summoning. A gold band ringing the iris is the first indicator, and as time continues, the Summoners hands and lower arms turn black, as though coated in ash. Although rare, addiction can appear in any Summoner, especially if they are inexperienced or their mental defenses are weakened. If this occurs, expert help should be sought immediately."__

"I'm not addicted," she told Kruuyal quietly.

He snorted but didn't reply.

She didn't speak to him for the rest of the night, too angry with how weak he thought she was. She __wasn't weak__.

All the same, when she continued her lessons with Phinis the next day, she wore gloves to cover her hands and kept her eyes on the floor.

And she ignored how her hands steadily grew a few shades darker every time she Summoned at night.

And she ignored how the gold band ringing her iris was slowly becoming more visible - at night, it shone with an almost ethereal glow.

Because she __wasn't__ weak.


	27. Interlude

The nightmare threw Alaedra from its consuming grip and she sat up with a gasp, stomach churning. Images of sightless eyes, crushed bodies, and the face of the woman she loved contorted in rage flashed across her mind, and she clenched her eyes shut. She focused on slowing her breath, feeling it flow across her throat, and tried to turn her mind to memories of brighter times.

Her and Kyra talking late into the night. The look of genuine happiness in Kyra's eyes when she looked at Alaedra. Seeing Kyra gradually relax around her.

Ignoring the bittersweet pain, she allowed herself to dwell on the memories until her heartbeat calmed and she was able to open her eyes. She stumbled out of bed, tugging a fur-lined cloak around her nightclothes to ward off the cold. Although winter in Whiterun wasn't quite the mind-numbing temperature that plagued places like Winterhold, the chill was still enough to find reasons to light fires and wear thicker clothes, especially in Jorrvaskr. She had yet to see any snow, but according to Farkas, light flurries weren't unheard of.

A knock sounded at her door and she pinched the bridge of her nose, recognising the characteristic pattern of Ria's knock. As much as she liked Ria, she wasn't in the mood for talking, but it would be rude to simply ignore her.

She sighed, eyes leaden with a lack of sleep, before tugging open the door and letting Ria into the room.

"You're up early," Alaedra said, plastering a fake smile on her face.

Ria huffed, settling herself on Alaedra's bed, legs crossed. "Vilkas and Torvar woke me up with their arguing - again," Ria huffed as she turned to face Alaedra. "I think Torvar…" She trailed off, blinking as she looked at Alaedra properly, no doubt taking in the bags under her eyes and blatantly false expression. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Alaedra nodded, but Ria still didn't look convinced. She sighed, dropping the smile from her face, knowing it was a lost cause. She'd always been terrible at controlling her facial expressions, and her true emotions came through even at the worst of times.

But Kyra…oh, Kyra had always maintained such a tight hold on every action she carried out, every word she spoke. It was one of the many reason Alaedra admired her, really - for always being in control of her body. At least, until that fateful day at fort Neugrad, when the uncontrollable rage had gripped her friend with fierce fingers, taking over her body.

"What's wrong?" Ria asked, and Alaedra was grateful her train of thoughts had been interrupted before she could dwell too much on the past.

She didn't answer and instead sunk onto the bed, rubbing her eyes.

"It was another nightmare, wasn't it?" Ria asked, settling beside her. "You can talk to me about them, you know. You don't have to go through this alone."

Alaedra paused. "I know. Really, I do. But I'm still the newest recruit. I can't go whining to someone every time I have a nightmare."

Ria scoffed. "Seriously. You're __not__ the recruit any longer. You've proven yourself time and time again on every mission you've been on. Farkas has been singing your praise from the rooftops!"

"Farkas' seemed a lot happier lately, don't you think?" Alaedra mentioned, smiling a little at the thought of him climbing on top of Jorrvaskr and singing at the top of his lungs.

"I think it's because he's realised it isn't a curse," Ria said quietly, almost to herself. "He's finally-"

She cut off suddenly and Alaedra glanced at her.

Ria shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Alaedra took Ria's hands. "Ria, you can trust me."

Ria hesitated, and then shook her head again, gently extracting her hands from Alaedra's. "It isn't my secret to tell. I only found out by accident. But if you become a member of the Inner Circle, you'll know what I'm talking about."

She sighed, but let it slip. If it wasn't her place to know, she could accept that.

"But we've gone off topic," Ria continued. "If you want to talk to me about your nightmares, I won't tell anyone else. They don't have to know."

She bit her lip. "I don't mind Farkas or Aela knowing. I trust them to stay quiet. But although I'm perfectly friendly with the others, I'm not close enough to talk to them about things this sensitive, you know?"

"But you're close enough to me to tell me. If it helps, that is."

Alaedra hesitated, and then nodded. "Just…give me a minute," she said, trying to organise her thoughts into some semblance of an order, but soon realised it was a lost cause. So instead, she just opened her mouth and let the words fall out. And all the while she was speaking, Kyra's face didn't leave her.

She told Ria about meeting Kyra for the first time, and then again in Windhelm, and how they gradually grew closer. And then, with shaking hands and eyes clenched shut, she spoke about the events of fort Neugrad and the argument afterwards, filled with fire and ice and fury.

"So I stayed," Alaedra continued, throat dry from speaking. "After Kyra had disappeared into the trees outside fort Neugrad, I stayed. I don't know how long I remained outside for, in the gathering rain, but it was enough for me to contain at least some of my emotions. And then I went back to the courtyard of the fort." She choked on her next words.

Ria placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Alaedra welcomed the warmth of the human touch, and continued speaking. "There were bodies everywhere. Not a metre of ground was clear of blood. And I couldn't help but picture Kyra killing them, one by one, overtaken by such a rage that no one could get to her."

"What did you do then?" Ria prompted.

"I gave them all the respect they deserved. I buried them, each and every one, Stormcloak and Imperial. You see, I finally understood what Kyra had been trying to tell me all those months ago in Korvanjund. That we each have our own set of beliefs we would fight to uphold, and just because someone thinks differently to you, doesn't make them a bad person. It doesn't lessen them. I was naive, before Kyra helped me realise just how many shades of grey there were."

Ria nodded. "Didn't anyone come?"

"Stormcloaks did, eventually. Ulfric had sent them when he didn't received any word from the fort. I hadn't buried all the bodies at that point, and it was obvious some had been killed by the thu'um, even to the untrained eye. I tried to cover them up, but…" Alaedra shrugged helplessly. "Despite what Kyra had done, I didn't want anyone knowing and using it to hurt her."

"And she didn't come back then," Ria said lowly, but Alaedra could see the anger burning in her eyes. "She left you there with a graveyard of her own making and expected you to clear it up?"

"Don't talk about her like that," Alaedra snapped, and then sighed, rubbing a hand across tired eyes. "Sorry. But…no. She didn't come back. After my initial anger had died, I knew we had to talk it through. Neither of us were thinking clearly afterwards to have a proper conversation about it. I needed an explanation about why she had killed those people. I needed to know she wasn't a murderer, and that she didn't mean the things she said to me. So I waited and waited. Until the first Stormcloaks had disappeared and new troops replaced them. When she didn't show, I went to the only other place I thought she would go - her house. Here, in Whiterun.

"I found the spare key and let myself in, but it was empty. Cold and dusty and empty. That was when I realised she had really left me." She ducked her head, feeling tears prickle at the edges of her eyes and seep down her face.

"She abandoned you," Ria said quietly, but Alaedra could hear her earnestness. "She felt as though she didn't need to explain herself to you, that her actions behind killing everyone were perfectly normal. But they weren't, and you know that, despite what you're trying to tell yourself. I'm sorry, Alaedra, but she's a murderer. There could never be a future between you two."

She gritted her teeth, feeling the familiar anger bubbling up, burning lowly at the base of her chest. As usual, it was followed by a plethora of other emotions - sadness, shame, guilt - and she groaned, curling in on herself.

Gentle hands rubbed her back, accompanied by soothing words. "You need to let this go," Ria was saying. "You need to let yourself forget and move on. You can't stay like this, with the memories tearing you up."

"No," Alaedra said, surprising herself with her own vehemence. "I'll never forget Kyra. And I've been trying to come to terms with it, but…" She trailed off, seeing Kyra's face floating in her mind's eye, a soft smile curving her lips and a certain look in her eyes that Alaedra had seen directed towards her several times, when Kyra had thought Alaedra wasn't paying attention. There was __something__ in that look, an emotion that Alaedra wouldn't let herself put word to. It was too cruel, to think about the __maybe's__ and __what if's__.

"I'll be with you every step of the way," Ria said, startling her from her thoughts. "But you know the most important step in forgetting about something?"

Alaedra tilted her head and then immediately straightened up again, the action reminding her too much of Kyra's quirks. "What?" she asked instead.

"Fighting."

Alaedra smiled at Ria.

* * *

Kyra threw herself from the nightmare and sat up with a gasp, head pounding. Images of sightless eyes, crushed bodies, and the face of the woman she loved contorted in fear flashed across her mind and she clenched her eyes shut, trying to block out the sights. She focused on slowing her breath, feeling it flow across her throat, and turned her mind to memories of brighter times.

Her and Alaedra sparring together. Laughing as Ralof spoke of exaggerated stories from when he was a new recruit in the Stormcloak army. Talking late into the night with Alaedra and slowly relaxing around her.

Ignoring the deep ache that welled up inside her and the accompanying feeling of a pain she wouldn't let herself put word to, she dwelt on the memories until her heartbeat calmed and she was able to open her eyes without the images dominating her vision.

She stumbled out of bed, shivering as the pervasive iciness sunk claws deep into her skin, and tugged yet another layer of clothing around her. The depth of winter in Winterhold - aptly named - was cold enough at the best of times, but temperatures this year had reached record lows.

Kyra tried to stop her mouth from chattering long enough to get the Dovah words for __shield__ and __cold__ past her chapped lips, as she had every morning for the past month, but as always, images of the death she had caused at fort Neugrad with it flashed across her mind.

This time, however, the revulsion that usually accompanied it was dulled.

She frowned, and readied the words on her lips again. The revulsion was barely there, and the vision of death had faded, only glancing across her mind in an instance.

What had changed? She knew Kruuyal continually insisted she needed to find the balance between her dragon soul and human heart - perhaps this was what he meant. And indeed, she __did__ feel a little calmer than usual, more clear headed.

Perhaps if she tried to shout again, she could succeed this time? She opened her mouth, and although the words came out, they were stuttered and lacked power. Something was still holding her back. She needed to let the dragon soul have more power in her body.

There was a soft knock at the door. Immediately, she tensed, spinning to face it as she prepared to Summon Kruuyal.

"Kyra? Its-it's me. Brelyna."

Kyra gritted her teeth. "Give me a minute."

She hurriedly pinched her cheeks to force colour to bloom, and tugged gloves over her hands to obscure the darkness that wrapped possessive tendrils around her skin. A fake smile easily springing up on her face, she opened the door and let Brelyna inside.

"You're up early," Kyra said, able to insert just enough enthusiasm into the sentence that it sounded natural.

Brelyna sighed, crossing the threshold and heading into her room. Kyra frowned at her intrusion, and subtly kicked an empty bottle of stamina potion under her bed. It wouldn't do for anyone to find out the lies she'd woven for herself.

"I was woken by some of the elder mages arguing about how many layers of wards and protection spells could be placed on an object. I won't go into the details, but," Brelyna shook her head, a smile edging on her lips, "it sounded as though it was getting pretty heated."

"Oh," Kyra forced herself to say. "I don't know much about that field of magic." Once again, she tried to sound moderately enthusiastic, but it was more difficult when itching suddenly started beneath her skin and the clear feeling in her head was replaced by a vague fuzziness that made it difficult to concentrate on anything. And it seemed Brelyna had noticed.

"Are you okay?" she asked, frowning. "Is something wrong?"

Kyra nodded. "Just a little tired." Brelyna regarded her suspiciously and she maintained her mask, internally thanking herself for being able to lie. She had always been good at acting.

But Alaedra…oh, Alaedra had always worn her heart on her sleeve. So passionate about everything, and infinitely kind towards everyone she met. It was one of the many reasons Kyra admired her, really - for always being empathetic. At least, until that fateful day at fort Neugrad, where the words uttered by Alaedra had cut deeper than any knife.

Alaedra was the pattern of stars in the night, golden wheat against a stormy sky, full-hearted laughter, and yet she had seemed so different that night, so full of anger, so quick to blame.

Brelyna offered her a smile. "I think we're all a little sleep deprived here. But just in case, you can always talk to me, okay?"

Kyra nodded without any intention of taking Brelyna up on her offer, kind as it was. She'd already told Brelyna she'd been in the Stormcloak army, after having had a little too much to drink a few weeks ago. Fortunately, she had maintained enough presence of mind not to let anything too important slip, and she intended to keep it that way.

"Are you having more lessons on Summoning today?" Brelyna asked casually. Perhaps a little too casually.

Kyra narrowed her eyes. "Yes," she said slowly, starting to surreptitiously scratch her arms.

"Good, good." Brelyna paused. "And…how is that going?"

"It's fine," Kyra replied, still wary. She watched Brelyna closely, watching her every action. Did Brelyna's eyes flick to Kyra's covered hands too often? Or did she try to make eye contact too much? Perhaps she was standing too closely, as though to try and get Kyra to spill her secrets?

But even as it crossed her mind, she knew she was being irrational. She shook her head, trying to order her thoughts.

"So anyway, what was the name of that friend you had?" Brelyna asked.

"Alaedra," Kyra said without thinking, too preoccupied with containing the swirling mass of accusations inside her head. And then her thoughts caught up and she turned accusing eyes on Brelyna. "Why do you want to know?" she asked slowly, cautiously.

"No reason," Brelyna said, half-smiling. "Just…it's a rather unusual name, isn't it?"

Kyra didn't reply, and frowned.

"Anyway, I'm sorry for having interrupted you - you probably have a long day of Summoning ahead."

Kyra didn't like the emphasis she placed on the word Summoning, but reapplied her smile. "And I'm sure you have a busy day ahead of you too. It's been nice catching up with you, we should do this more often." The words sounded mechanical.

"Indeed." Brelyna hesitated, and then offered her hand for Kyra to shake.

She frowned first at the hand and then at Brelyna, unused to such farewells, but hesitantly took her hand anyway.

Brelyna shook her hand firmly, rumpling the smooth fabric of Kyra's glove, and then released it, suddenly looking sad. "I'll see you soon, Nightingale," she said, and then left, leaving Kyra feeling as though she had missed something important.

Out of habit, she glanced down at her hands. and saw some of the tendrils of dark grey were visible, peeking out from the top of her right glove. She readjusted them, making sure no one could see the signs of her weakness, and then got ready for her lesson with Phinis.

Because she knew the best way to clear her mind was by Summoning.

Kyra smiled to herself.

* * *

Alaedra grinned as Farkas twirled his broadsword and advanced towards her. He swung at her head but she raised her shield, arm shuddering with the impact and whirled away, out of his range.

They exchanged a flurry of blows, Alaedra backing away from his superior strength, and using her agility to avoid his blows rather than blocking them directly. She sent a swipe towards his legs, making him to back away, but he recovered too quickly for her to take advantage of it.

He moved closer to her, trying to make the most of his weapon having longer range of his sword, but he seemed to have forgotten about her shield. She lashed out with her left arm, driving the shield into his shoulder.

Farkas cursed, backing away, but once again, recovered quickly.

She needed a new tactic.

This time, as Farkas moved steadily closer, she didn't back away. She stayed where she was, watching his every move, and when he was close enough, lashed out with her sword.

Kyra guided her movements. As Alaedra moved to the side, she could see Kyra in her mind's eyes, showing her how to move out of range of her opponent's weapon. Alaedra caught her sword on the edge of Farkas' axe, watching Kyra as she demonstrated the weak point on an enemy's weapon. And she could feel Kyra's warm body hovering just behind hers, gentle hands on hers, guiding her hands through the motions. And, comforted by the fact that Kyra would show her what to do, Alaedra twisted to the side, throwing her weight into her sword.

The axe flew out of Farkas' grip.

He gaped at his empty hand, steps stuttering to a stop, before looking at her in amazement,

Alaedra felt her cheeks heat up as he stared at her, along with the others who were sparring casually alongside her, Aela, Torvar, even Vilkas…they all stopped what they were doing to watch her.

Farkas was the first to react. He let loose a booming laugh, the sound of his humour filling the still air. "Well, Alaedra, you've set a record! No one's even been able to do that to me since I sparred with Kodlak!"

As though that was a cue, the people around her started talking, incredulous looks filling their faces.

Alaedra backed away from the sudden attention, but smiled nevertheless. __Kyra would know what to do in this situation__ , she thought. __Kyra always knew how to react to sudden attention.__

 _ _A__ ela, with her ever quick eyes, evidently saw Alaedra's flustered face and surreptitiously diverted the attention away from her.

 _ _It wasn't really me__ , Alaedra wanted to shout. It had been Kyra who had taught her that move, back in Ulfric's army, and it has been Kyra who had guided her through the actions when she had been fighting against Farkas, regardless of whether she had been there or not.

Eventually, the excitement died down. Apparently, Farkas hadn't lost in such a dramatic manner for several years. Strangely enough, he didn't seem to be upset by the fact, and kept grinning and winking at her whenever he was free.

Alaedra tried to sidle away, and after a few minutes of awkward shuffling closer to the door, managed to escape into the interior of Jorrvaskr. The sounds of merriment faded away as she closed the door, and she turned around to be met with empty tables and chairs, half eaten food still scattered on various platters.

She walked down the length of the hall, hearing her footsteps echo in the sudden stillness, until the soft closing of a door behind her made her turn around.

Ria walked towards her, still dressed in her armour, sweat glistening on her face in the light of eternally burning candles. "Well done on that disarming back there," she said, smiling. "That took a lot of skill."

Alaedra bit her lip. "I was taught it by someone. They had the talent, not me. I was just copying what they showed me."

Ria was very quiet for a while. "It was Kyra, wasn't it?" she asked at last.

Alaedra straightened. "How did you know?"

"Your voice…you change the way you speak when you talk about her. And you always smile."

"I'm sorry?"

"When you mention her name, there's always a flicker of a smile. But you smile like you're in pain. Like remembering her is painful."

Alaedra swallowed, and didn't trust herself to speak. Her heartbeat sounded strangely loud as it echoed in her mind.

"Look, I thought you'd forgotten about her." Ria sounded exasperated.

"You can't expect me to move on that quickly. I spent a long time with her. We…we were really close. I think I-" She cut off, clamping her mouth shut,

"We spoke about this weeks ago, Alaedra. Three weeks ago, you finally told me the events surrounding her, and I thought I made my opinion perfectly clear. Holding onto the past, the memories…it's just dragging everything out needlessly, and causing you pain. Just move on, okay?"

"No," Alaedra said firmly. "I know I told you what happened, and I know you said that I escaped from a disaster, but that doesn't mean this is enough time to forget about her. I can't, don't you understand? I'm not going to move on."

Ria shook her head. "I don't know how many times I can tell you. But if you refuse to listen, that's your problem. Talk to me when you've actually had some sense hammered into your skull," Ria said, and turned her back on Alaedra. The door closed with a sharp click and she was left alone in the silence.

She stood there for a few minutes, trying to contain her whirling thoughts. The inside suddenly became stifling, pressing against her face. Air. She needed fresh air.

Alaedra almost stumbled down the steps from Jorrvaskr in her haste to escape. Once aside, she blinked in the sudden sunshine that was a stark contrast to the dim interior of Jorrvaskr.

"I've got something to deliver for you. Your eyes only," a voice sounded and she looked around to see a man dressed in a courier outfit, an letter held in his hand.

Alaedra took it. "Who's it from?"

He shrugged. "Not my job to know. The letter's come quite a distance though - all the way from Winterhold."

"Winterhold?" She didn't know anyone in Winterhold.

"Look, lady. Read the letter. If you still don't know who's it from, just put it in the letterbox here in Whiterun and another courier will return it for you. I got a lot of things to deliver."

She ran a finger over the wax seal, looking closer at the insignia. It was a strange symbol, the wavy lines seeming to form a tree-like shape with a central spiral. On the upper right, there was a moon and a star, and she thought she should mean something to her. __If Kyra was here, she'd know__ , Alaedra thought bitterly, and then broke the seal, barely noticing when the courier continued on his way.

Finding a quiet bench to sit on, she unfolded the letter, and started reading.

 _ _Dear Alaedra Harrissen,__

 _ _You won't know me, but I know you. Or rather, of you. We're connected by a particular person, you see, and it is with her health and happiness foremost in my mind that I find myself writing this letter to you.__

 _ _Kyra Nightingale is at the college of Winterhold, and you must come with haste.__

 _ _I am not so without eyes that I am blind to see you have gone your separate ways. To say you had an argument would, I feel, be an understatement, but without details, I cannot comment further. I urge you to put aside your anger, because Nightingale needs people she can trust and rely on.__

 _ _Although the person in question has only told me the barest details of what happened, I was able to use the recent archives to uncover the truth of fort Neugrad and the Stormcloaks. Your name was only let slip once, but the unusual nature of it allowed me to track you down. I hope you feel it wasn't an invasion of your privacy, but when I explain the circumstances to you, I am sure you will understand.__

 _ _How much do you know of the addiction of Summoning?__

 _ _The side-effects are far-reaching and severe, but those afflicted do not see it themselves and often chose to hide the symptoms from prying eyes. I myself have only seen them recently, and only then on the written word of someone closer to Kyra than I am. I doubt you know of J'Zargo, but he has grown to care for our mutual friend.__

 _ _I fear I cannot say too much, lest this is intercepted, but you must hear what I am saying. Events here are moving quickly and my blood sings with a rising magic.__

 _ _Ride with haste.__

 _ _Brelyna of House Telvanni__

Alaedra didn't know how long she sat there for, reading and re-reading the letter, but when the sun dipped below the horizon and her breath started to form a cloud in front of her face, she finally folded the letter and stood up.

Somehow numb and seething with emotions at the same time, she let her feet guide her to the familiar sight of Jorrvaskr. The interior was filled with warmth and laughter as usual, and people called for her to join in with the merriment. Their calls passed over her, not touching her. How could she laugh, when Kyra was suffering? How could she feel warmth when Kyra was in the icy depths of Winterhold, alone and struggling with the weight of addiction?

Kyra was flying sparks, the watching moon, the freedom of a wolf. She needed to protect that.

Still in a trance, she let herself into her room and sat down at her desk, curling her fingers around her quill and trying to order her thoughts.

And then she set quill to parchment and started writing a reply to this mysterious Brelyna. And all the while, the swirling eyes of Kyra didn't leave her mind.


	28. The worship of stars

Kyra stepped into Phinis's office, wondering why she had been called to him so early in the morning. Their lessons usually didn't start until nine.

"Ah, Kyra. I'm sure you're wondering why I've summoned you so early?" he said, asking her unspoken question.

She nodded wordlessly, quickly touching the tips of her fingers together for comfort. It was a habit she had picked up recently, and it seemed to calm the almost constant trembling in her hands.

"I have to apologise, but I'm not going to be able to continue our lessons any longer," he said quietly.

Her head shot up, aghast, and she swallowed reflexively, throat suddenly dry. Would this mean she wouldn't be able to Summon? She __had__ to Summon.

He held up a hand, seeming to read her emotions from her face. "I've been told that there's a dangerous artifact in the Midden that needs disposing by someone skilled in Conjuration magic. I would ask you to accompany me, but as my student, there are certain laws that won't allow me to expose you to potential danger. However, I __have__ managed to appeal to the Arch Mage, and he is happy for you to continue your study independently."

"So…I can still Summon?" she asked cautiously.

"Indeed. You'll also have access to most books in the library, as well as the Summoning room. I trust you to be responsible."

Something cold squirmed in her stomach. She ignored it.

"I'll still be in the college - well, beneath it - so if you need my help for anything, ask another lecturer, and they'll inform me. If my attendance in the Midden isn't crucial at that point in time, I will free up some of my time."

She offered a faint smile, although it felt weird on her face. "Thank you."

Kyra turned to leave, recognising her dismissal, but a thought struck here and she glanced back. "Do you know when J'Zargo will arrive back here?" she asked. "It's been over a month."

"I've heard he isn't far off, but I don't think his arrival is imminent. A couple of days, maybe."

Kyra nodded and left the office, heading to the Summoning room. Now that Phinis was no longer keeping such close tabs on her, she should be free to Summon Kruuyal and talk with him inside, without being interrupted.

She passed Brelyna in the corridor and sent a superficial smile towards her, although her mind was already occupied with Summoning. However, she maintained enough state of mind to immediately notice when Brelyna looked at her hesitantly, steps stuttering.

Kyra stopped. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Brelyna said slowly, as though she was taking care to construct the words in her head before releasing them. "Just…" She trailed off.

"What?" Kyra asked, a little impatiently, eager to start Summoning.

Brelyna seemed to abandon her caution and stepped closer to her. "I've been exchanging letters with someone who is close to you. A friend. You should know that someone __does__ care about what you're doing to yourself here."

She scoffed. "I don't have any friends. None that know I'm here, in any case," she added as soft grey eyes crossed her mind. Something seized her heart as a name followed, but she refused to react to it. "And I'm not doing anything to myself."

Pity flashed across Brelyna's face, and Kyra scowled before she could stop herself. "Just hang on. Your…friend will be here soon enough. Don't let yourself go too far."

And before Kyra could reply, Brelyna hurried off. She stood there, staring after her, and tried to contain the rising hope at this…friend she had been talking about. She knew hope was the most treacherous emotion to feel - so easily betrayed - and she forced it down, squashing it beneath everything else. When she was sure she was in control again, she continued on.

Once she reached the door and felt a tingle over her skin as the protection wards rose up, she quickly Summoned Kruuyal, smiling as the pleasure rushed over her. It didn't occur to her just how strange it was that Summoning a dremora was now almost instinctive. She had grown used to the strange company and his cynical view on life over…how long had it been? Her days were starting to blur together. It must have been over a month since she first Summoned him.

Kyra started to leaf lazily through a summoning book while telling Kruuyal about Phinis's decision to drop their lessons for the time being. He offered his usual scathing remarks on the state of humanity as a whole. Kyra took it as par of the course, used to his arrogant tendencies by now.

A passage in the book caught her eye and she looked closer.

 _"_ _ _Dealings of mortals with the Daedric Princes are not unheard of, but often end up harming the Summoner as opposed to bending the will of the Prince. It should be noted that dealing with the Princes sometimes causes changes in appearance, such as black dots in the white of eyes or strange eye colour.__ _"_

She raised an eyebrow in curiosity and read the paragraph aloud to Kruuyal.

"I've never heard of this before," she said. "Do you think it changes depending on what Daedric Prince is Summoned?"

Kruuyal stared at her, and she shifted under his unsettling gaze. Even now, his abyssal eyes sent shivers along her spine if she made eye contact for a second too long.

"Don't waste my time asking me something you already know," he growled.

Kyra frowned. "What? Why would I already know this?"

Silence.

Then, "You're not joking."

"Kruuyal, what are you talking about?"

"I assumed you knew all this. But you're clueless. You don't even realise you've Summoned a Daedric Prince, do you?"

Breath trickled from her lungs. "What?" she repeated, her voice strangled.

"Your eyes - the patterns of blue and red and purple - are characteristic of the effect of Summoning a Daedric Prince."

That wasn't possible.

She hadn't Summoned any Daedric Princes. She __couldn't__ have done it.

But Kruuyal was standing there, looking at her and not saying anything, and she knew he wasn't lying.

Kyra stumbled backwards and sat down heavily on a chair as her head started spinning. Threading her fingers through her air, she closed her eyes, trying to centre herself.

"I hope you aren't about to faint," Kruuyal said, sounding uncomfortable.

She waited until she had fully regained her senses. "My eyes are like this naturally," she heard herself saying through numb lips.

He shook his head. "No. I can sense the presence of a Daedric Prince hovering around you - anyone who's spent enough time in Oblivion could."

"And you aren't mistaken?"

He made a sound that was suspiciously like a snort. "Of course not. I'm __never__ mistaken."

"But that's impossible!" She threw herself from the chair and started pacing, hoping the rhythm would calm her discordant mind. "I haven't Summoned any Princes. How could I? I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Maybe you just forgot," he suggested, sending her a deadpan look.

She scoffed. "I doubt I'd forget something as important as __that__. I mean, come on! Do you realise how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I don't see any alternative explanation," he said bluntly, before reaching out with a hand, placing it under her chin, and tipping her head up so she made eye contact with him. She tried not to show how discomfited his dark eyes made her feel as they stared into hers, and almost stumbled when he let go of her suddenly.

"I don't know if you've seen - I doubt it, you'd need a strong connection with Oblivion to truly see it - but there are small fractals of silver scattered in your eyes amongst the colour. That particular change in appearance is characteristic of just one Daedric Prince."

"Which one?" she found herself asking.

"Azura. The silver fractals echo her symbol - a star."

"Azura? But…why?" she asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Why not?" said Kruuyal, and turned away, muttering under his breath. She couldn't make out any of the words.

"I…I can't believe all this," Kyra said quietly, although Kruuyal didn't seem to hear. It was too far-fetched to be real. She didn't hold the prejudices that many Nords did against the Daedric Princes, having met with Hircine before, but she still wasn't comfortable with the idea that she had somehow unknowingly Summoned one. Kyra would have guessed her eye colour was due to her meeting Hircine, but it didn't seem so, if she was to trust Kruuyal.

And more personally, her eyes…weren't really hers now. She'd always loved them - loved the patterns and colours. They were unique, but they were only like that because of Azura.

And hidden beneath the whirling colours, invisible to the normal eye were silver fractals, appearing as glimmering stars.

 _ _Stars in her eyes__ …

Her breath stuttered. A distant memory touched upon her thoughts.

 _"_ _ _You're more special than you know," her mother said softly, gently brushing her hair out of her face.__

 _ _Kyra yawned and snuggled deeper into her bed, sleep starting to creep over her. She murmured something unintelligible in reply.__

 _"_ _ _You are. One day, you'll realise just how much. You only need to look at your eyes to know that."__

 _"_ _ _My eyes?" Kyra yawned.__

 _"_ _ _You have stars in your eyes, and at some point, you'll realise what that means. That it shows how much I love you, and how important you will be." She pressed a kiss to Kyra's forehead. "But that's all in the future. Go to sleep now, and don't worry about this."__

 _"_ _ _Not tired," Kyra protested.__

 _ _Her mother smiled, face growing indistinct. "Everyone needs their sleep. Sweet dreams, Kyra."__

She came out of the memory, swaying. It couldn't be what it seemed. It just __couldn't__.

"Kruuyal?" she asked, voice unsteady.

He turned around. "What?" he growled.

She swallowed, feeling a knot form in her throat. "I haven't Summoned any Daedric Princes. I know I haven't. But my eyes - if you aren't lying - appear to show that I have. Right?"

"Yes," Kruuyal snapped, sounding annoyed.

"So…would it be possible for the Summoner to make another deal with the Prince - to make sure that their eye colour isn't changed, and for it to happen to someone else?"

Kruuyal tilted his head to the side. "It is possible. There have only been a few instances of that happening, mainly with the more benevolent Princes. There are limits on who it can be passed onto - either a willing candidate, or the closest living relation of the Summoner. Daedric Princes like marking their followers."

She sucked in a breath. It __was__ possible. It was. It meant…

"Why do you ask?" Kruuyal said, his voice low and cautious.

"My…my mother. She used to say I had stars in my eyes," she whispered, finally raising her gaze to meet Kruuyal's.

His back snapped straight, and he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, a strangely human reaction. "I think we've found who Summoned Azura."

"So…you think my __mum__ did this?"

"Why not? It isn't unheard of. Striking an additional deal with the Prince in order to send the change in appearance to someone else. In this case, it was you." He looked at her with unreadable eyes.

 _ _Why would my mum do that? What does this mean?__

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" she asked instead.

He shrugged. "I didn't care. You can Summon who you want. The fact that you didn't initially realise? Oh, the look on your face was delicious." He grinned at her, and she shivered.

"Is that why no one else has said anything - they just don't care?" she asked, somehow feeling simultaneously offended and relieved.

"I doubt it. They probably don't know - it isn't well-known knowledge. And either Phinis doesn't know or he respects your privacy."

She gritted her teeth, and opened her mouth, but her skin started itching before she could anything. Knowing by now what this meant, she looked apologetically at Kruuyal, knowing how much he hated being banished.

He had already seen her hands come up to scratch her arms though, and sighed, grumbling underneath his breath. "Yes, fine. Get on with it then."

She flicked her wrist to banish him, and he went ungraciously. The itching started to increase and she gritted her teeth as she dug her fingernails in, breath starting to feel shallower. She hurriedly Summoned him again, and when the pleasure had faded once more, chanced a look at her hands.

She wasn't wearing gloves, so she could clearly see the darkness of her hands. They seemed to be darker than they had last week, and the blackness was starting to crawl up her lower arms in winding tendrils, wrapping possessive fingers over her skin.

She looked away quickly, banishing both Daedric Princes and addiction from her mind.

* * *

Kyra yawned as she made her way towards the breakfast hall, eyes heavy with a lack of sleep. The stamina potions were becoming less effective, but she wasn't willing to cut down on her hours Summoning at night, meaning she'd only managed to catch a few hours sleep.

And when she __had__ slept last night, images of swirling grey eyes and soft skin haunted her dreams. She woke with a name lingering on her lips, her body feeling cold and empty.

She passed through the hall of elements, idly noting Ancano standing on the opposite side, staring at the Eye of Magnus. Both the sight of the Eye, and Ancano spending an abnormally long time around it, had become common over the last month. She privately thought they were in a relationship, with Ancano pining over their lack of communication.

When he realised she was there, he sent yet another unreadable expression, but she had grown used to them by now, and was able to shrug it off.

She carried on walking, mind already focusing on the session of Summoning ahead. She'd run through all her old Summons, maybe even glancing at how to Summon a Winged Twilight or maybe a Clannfear. Kyra doubted she'd be able to complete it - Skyrim had a weak connection with them - but she wanted to read up on the theory.

Kyra was so caught up in her mind that she failed to notice Ancano's focus had switched from the Eye to her, and he was now striding towards her. She did, however, notice when she almost walked into him.

"Yes?" she sighed, trying to side-step around him, but he just stepped in front of her again.

Despite her irritation with him when she first arrived - she had never been able to stand Thalmor agents - she couldn't seem to muster more than a vague feeling of annoyance now. All her emotions had been clouded recently, as though covered by a thin film of oil. Aside from the anger. __That__ remained raging and intent, rising quicker than ever before and lashing out in an instance.

"Look at me," Ancano growled.

Kyra rolled her eyes but did as he said, hoping she could get to Summoning sooner. She frowned when she saw his face - his eyes were gleaming with a madness that was closely mirrored by a wide smile splitting his face.

"What are you?" Ancano asked, his resonance rising and falling at the wrong parts of the sentence.

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play coy with me," he snarled, the madness glaring from his eyes. She swallowed at the sudden change in emotions. "I know you're the dragonborn. And I know you slaughtered the Thalmor patrol I sent."

"What Thalmor patrol?" She racked her memory, trying to think. Her mind had been so foggy lately - it was difficult trying to concentrate on anything that wasn't Summoning. She eventually managed to recall the incidence, and the haunting note, but it left her with a headache. "Oh," she said, not able to think of anything else to say.

"So let me ask you again." Ancano took a step forwards and she backed away, towards the door that led to the courtyard. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist in a bruising grip. " _ _What are you__?"

"Let go of me," Kyra said lowly, burning anger rising in an instant.

"Just tell me!" Ancano suddenly shouted, spittle flying from his lips. He thrust his other hand towards her and she could see sparks glancing off his fingers.

Recognising the tell-tale sign of the beginning of a fire spell - J'Zargo was obsessed with them - she whirled to the side, narrowly avoiding the gout of flames that licked at the air where she had originally been standing. She was reaching for Oblivion before she had caught up with herself, her anger turning into cold fury, and Kruuyal shimmered into existence in front of her.

Ancano recovered his sense and sent a crackling ball of lightning towards Kruuyal, but he was already moving, unsheathing his great double-handed sword and swinging it towards the sphere of malign magic. The lightning glanced off the edge and reversed its direction, flying back towards Ancano.

His eyes widened, and he barely managed to raise a ward in time. But it was weak, and although it held, the backlash of power from the residual energy of the lightening caught him unaware. He stumbled back a few steps, almost tripping over his impractical robes.

Kruuyal immediately took advantage, and leveled his sword an Ancano's throat. Ancano froze in place, swallowing.

"You __dare__ threaten a Thalmor agent?" His burning gaze fixed on Kyra. "I'll see you punished for this."

"I doubt it," Kyra said coldly, and smirked, knowing she held all the power in the room. It was an intoxicating feel, and it fueled the ice that pulsed through her veins. A distant section of her mind knew she shouldn't be feeling such vicious joy, but it was easily ignored.

"What do you reckon?" she asked Kruuyal casually. "Think he's scared?"

Kruuyal tilted his head to the side. "Not nearly enough," he said in a low voice. With a deliberate movement, he pressed the tip of the sword to Ancano's throat and drew it gently down. A thin line of blood trickled out, stark against his pale skin. Ancano didn't look as though he was breathing, but the hate in his golden eyes was undiminished.

"That's more like it," Kyra said, smiling. She strode up to Ancano, her cloak whipping around her ankles, and moved Kruuyal's sword to the side with a finger. To her surprise, he let her.

"Are you listening?" she asked Ancano. He nodded, lips in a firm line.

She leaned in closer. "Don't __ever__ threaten me again. I won't be as forgiving next time."

"You'll regret this," Ancano growled. His unblinking gaze set Kyra on edge and she turned away, refusing to reply to an empty threat.

Kruuyal sent a approving look towards her, and something that may have been the Dremora version of a smile. It was rather unsettling.

"Well done," he said, and she thought that was the first time he had congratulated her. Something lightened within her.

"Don't let anyone control you," he continued. "Listen to your dragon side."

She looked at him, and tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the look and perhaps he understood them, because he offered her another Dremora-esque smile, his black eyes seeming just a little less harsh than usual. He turned away suddenly, as though struck, before squaring his shoulders. When he looked back again, his eyes were as harsh as they had always been.

Kyra glanced away first, suddenly reminded of her rumbling stomach and quest for breakfast. She started walking towards the courtyard, Kruuyal by her side, banishing thoughts of Ancano from her mind.

The only warning came in the form of her hairs standing on end, and a certain static quality in the air. Then a wave of energy, a tangible force, caught her from behind, tossed her away. The last thing she saw before blackness took her was the unforgiving solidity of a wall.

* * *

She's right there.

Weak and unbreakable. Strong and fragile.

I could do it now.

But.

What's that feeling in my chest?

That pressure?

She's like a fire.

I need her alive.

And I need her safe.

For what I need to do.

I'll wait.

* * *

She groaned. Her head ached, the pulsing rhythm of her heartbeat sending pulses of pain through her skull. The strange noises around her - people shouting, crackling, hisses of power - did nothing to lessen the pounding in her head.

Kyra slowly pried her eyes open.

Small shapes were whizzing around in the sky - little balls of energy that attacked the people standing around her. Maybe she'd hit her head harder than she thought. Everything __was__ a little fuzzy after all.

She blinked, but the scene didn't fade. Wincing, she got to her feet, looking around. It seemed most people from the college - Tolfdir, Faralda, Phinis - were fighting these strange balls of energy.

"Kyra!" A familiar voice sounded and she spun around to see J'Zargo making his way towards her, battling the strange orbs of energy as he did.

"J'Zargo," she breathed. "You're back."

"It took J'Zargo long enough. There was a lot of Dwemer machinery to fight our way through. It was more active than usual and we lost a few mages on our way through."

Kyra bit her lip, opened her mouth, and then was forced to duck when a ball of energy hurtled towards her. She unsheathed her swords and sent a quick swipe at it, but it danced backwards, out of her reach.

J'Zargo sent a stream of flames towards it, catching it head-on as it darted forwards again, but it didn't slow down. Kyra leapt to the side, sweeping both of her swords in a smooth motion towards the ball of energy as she did. They both caught the ball, and it wavered, form flickering.

J'Zargo switched from flames to lightening, the air crackling with power. The ball of energy convulsed once, trapped by the twin streams of lightening, and when Kyra's sword came in contact with it again, it seemed to implode. The shards of crystalised energy melted, turning into a disturbing pile of glowing slime on the ground.

"What's…going on?" she asked, looking around again. The balls of energy were dwindling in number - only a few remained - but more than a few of the mages were being forced to cast healing spells on themselves and others.

"What __isn't__ going on?" he asked sardonically. "The arch-mage is dead, Ancano's gone insane and activated the Eye of Magnus - the surge of magic from it was probably what knocked you out - and we're fighting these __things__." He gestured towards the balls of energy, sending a casual wave of fire at one as it passed.

Kyra swallowed. "Ah. That…isn't good," she said.

"Understatement of the year," J'Zargo muttered, whiskers drooping.

"Wait, how did I get out here?" Kyra asked. The last thing she remembered was flying into a wall in the hall of the elements.

J'Zargo looked at her strangely. "How should J'Zargo know? Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought."

She frowned. Unless someone had teleported her, she must have regained consciousness and made her way across the bridge before falling unconscious again. But that didn't make sense.

"Look's like that's all the anomalies," J'Zargo said, breathing out. "But we've still got Ancano to deal with."

Kyra nodded, glancing around, and saw Mirabelle approaching them.

"Oh good, you're awake," Mirabelle said, offering her a faint smile, and turned to J'Zargo. "Did you find what you needed?"

"The staff of Magnus is in the Labyrinthian. J'Zargo thinks he should head there right away - Ancano looks like he could bring the whole college down."

Mirabelle went white. "Labyrinthian?" she asked carefully. "Are you sure?" She continued talking before J'Zargo had the chance to reply, shaking her head. "It can't be a coincidence. It can't be."

"What can't?" Kyra asked, unable to help herself.

Mirabelle breathed out. "Savos gave me something a while ago, and said it was from the Labyrinthian. He said I would know what to do when the time came. I think…I think I'm supposed to give it to you," she said, looking at J'Zargo. "He impressed the importance of having it on me at all times." She rummaged in a pocket, and withdrew a torque, the edges engraved with strange markings. After a pause, she handed it to J'Zargo.

"Thank you," J'Zargo said, and looked at it, frowning.

"There's one other thing," Mirabelle said. "Follow me."

Kyra looked at J'Zargo, who shrugged, and they both followed after Mirabelle. Mirabelle started to lead them towards the bridge, and Kyra assumed they were heading back to the college, but before they could set foot on the stone, Mirabelle turned sharply to the right. The bridge towered above them, as did the shadow of the college, as Mirabelle came to a stop on a seemingly unassuming patch of snow just a few metres away from the perimeter of Winterhold.

"I wouldn't normally authorise this, but time is of the essence. Are either of you familiar with the use of teleportation by the mage's guild in Morrowind?"

Kyra nodded, and Mirabelle continued. "This is a teleportation site right here. It can lead to several places in Skyrim - not many - but most importantly, it leads to-"

"The labyrinthian?" J'Zargo interrupted.

"Not quite. We had a mage here a while ago, Drelas, who liked the comfort of sleeping in his own bed at night. So with the help of the Arch Mage, he set up his house as another teleportation site. I don't have time to ask him for permission, but I'll send you to the teleportation site by his cottage, because it's close to Labyrinthian. Almost next door."

J'Zargo nodded instantly. "What does J'Zargo have to do?"

"Stay where you are and I'll send you there - runes are carved into the ground underneath your feet. Drelas should be able to return you once you have the staff, and if not, you only need to reactive the runes by his cottage." She turned to Kyra. "I can send you there as well - the more people go, the higher the chance we have of living through these next few days. I need to stay here - we're trying to organise a counterattack to get back into the college, and hopefully subdue Ancano. If that fails, it's all down to you," she said, an apology clear in her eyes.

Kyra hesitated, but finally nodded, moving to stand next to J'Zargo. She still had her swords on her person, and she could Summon Kruuyal to fight against…well, whatever was in the Labyrinthian.

Mirabelle started weaving a complicated pattern with her hands, trails of magic flowing from the tips of her fingers. She gathered it into an orb of magic, and thrust it into the ground.

Markings hidden beneath the snow glowed once, as the snow melted around them, and then it felt as though the earth gave way beneath Kyra's feet. She fell, the world disintegrating into gold.


	29. Embrace the darkness

Kyra staggered when her feet felt firm ground again, swallowing as bile rose up in her stomach. Mage teleportation was a quick way to travel, but it certainly wasn't a smooth ride.

J'Zargo straightened up by her side, fur ruffled and dirtied. He was usually meticulous about his presentation, but now he didn't seem to care, staring at the cottage in front of them instead. These last few weeks had changed him, making him less arrogant, more mature.

"Do you reckon we should speak with Drelas?" J'Zargo asked. "He may have some supplies we can use."

Kyra hesitated, and then nodded. "It's worth a try. If he used to be with the college, he may even be willing to come along."

She carefully threaded her way around the vegetable plot, taking care to avoid the plants that emerged from the freshly turned soil, and walked up to the door. Quickly sending a glance at J'Zargo, she knocked on the door.

There was a sound from within - a faint crash - but no one came to the door. She knocked again, and was about to turn away, when J'Zargo suddenly leapt at her. She flinched, reacting on instinct, but wasn't quick enough to avoid his body. She stumbled to the ground, his body on hers, and sent a elbow strike at his head.

He recoiled, yowling in pain. "You idiot! We're being attacked!"

He scrambled off her, crouching beneath the window, and she could now see that a section of it was shattered.

A shard of ice shattered another part of the window.

She cursed, keeping low on the ground as she crept back towards the door. "Keep him occupied," she whispered to J'Zargo.

He nodded, lightening crackling in one hand, fire in the other, and sent the twin streams back through the window.

Kyra unsheathed her swords as quietly as possible, glancing at the door. She could use unrelenting force to break it down, and she hesitated, some part of her urging her to use the thu'um. But the other part of her - stronger for the time being - reminded her of the destruction it had caused.

Instead, she braced herself and kicked the door, using her Dov soul to lend strength to her legs. The door splintered and rocked on its hinges. She kicked again. The door tumbled in, and someone inside whirled to face her, a vicious snarl marring their face.

She leapt inside, avoiding the first shard of ice he sent her way, and deflected the second with her sword by flickering her wrist. J'Zargo sent more fire towards the wizard - a Dunmer - from his position outside, who only just managed to raise a ward in time.

Kyra darted closer, trusting J'Zargo to keep the Dunmer occupied for as long as possible. When the fire dwindled away, and the Dunmer lowered his ward, starting to turn back to Kyra as though he had only just remembered there was another threat, she swung her swords.

One caught him on the shoulder, causing a shallow cut, and he stumbled back. He lost his footing, tripping over his mage's robes, and his head came into contact with the alchemy station behind him. There was a wet crunch, and he crumpled to the ground. Kyra cautiously prodded him with a toe, rolling him over. His eyes were wide and glassy.

She sighed, sheathing her swords. "He's dead," she called out to J'Zargo, who poked a head up from outside. "He hit his head."

J'Zargo cautiously ventured through the door, stepping over the splintered door. "He must have gone rouge when he left the college," he muttered.

Kyra nodded, heading to the nearest cupboard. Food was stored inside - simple but edible - as well as several healing and stamina potions. Spotting a knapsack, she piled the supplies into it, helped by J'Zargo.

Her arms started itching. She grimaced, trying to resist the urge to scratch, and noticed the tremors in her hands get worse. "You should check upstairs for anything else that might help us," she said hurriedly. "I'll head out and see which direction the Labyrinthian is."

J'Zargo looked at her strangely, and she ducked her head, keeping her eyes on the ground. The gold around her iris was always more pronounced when the symptoms appeared, and she didn't know how well-versed J'Zargo was on the addiction signs for Summoning.

Except it wasn't addiction. It __wasn't.__

She hurried outside, dragging her fingers across her skin with an almost feverish intensity, until she was far enough from the cottage. It took her a while to peel off her gloves - her hands were shaking too much - and the crawling beneath her skin was increasing. She gritted her teeth in frustration, feeling tears prickle her eyes, until she finally threw her gloves on the ground and raised her bare hand to the air. With growing desperation, she reached for Oblivion, and pulled Kruuyal towards her.

When the pleasure had faded, and she had regained control of her senses, she raised her eyes to look at Kruuyal. He stood there, leaning casually against a large boulder.

Neither of them said anything for a minute.

"You're getting stronger," Kruuyal finally said.

She frowned, but he continued before she could say anything.

"When you threatened Ancano, you took control. You dealt with him skilfully. You let your dragon soul have more control, more power, and it made you stronger, more prepared to deal with the situation."

She cast her mind back, trying to fight through the perpetual fog that clouded her thoughts, and saw Kruuyal's sword draw Ancano's blood on her command in her mind. How was she supposed to be feeling about that? The sensation of power and control she'd originally felt had waned, and all that remained was a hollow sensation in her stomach.

Kruuyal seemed to know what she was thinking. "You did the right thing," he said. "He was a threat to you, and you took steps to ensure he wasn't. You need to relax your conscience, and stop being so infuriatingly human. Things aren't black and white, and you need to welcome the darkness as readily as the light."

She remembered a time when she would have recoiled at that. But now, she nodded hesitantly, murmuring a faint assent. "It didn't work though. Ancano still attacked me."

Kruuyal smiled, and she shuddered. "And next time, he will pay blood. What I drew last time was insignificant. He will __bleed__."

Kyra swallowed, but didn't object. Something hummed in contentment inside her.

She sensed someone approaching behind her, and she glanced around to see J'Zargo exiting the cottage. She turned to Kruuyal hurriedly. "Don't say __anything__ ," she hissed under her breath as she pulled her gloves back on. "I don't want J'Zargo knowing just how much I Summon you."

"I think he already suspects," Kruuyal said pointedly, but inclined his head in acquiescence anyway and backed away a few steps.

"J'Zargo has a few more healing potions," J'Zargo said as he approached them. "Better than wasting magika." He stopped, looking at Kruuyal for the first time as his fur stood on end. "Do you really have to keep him around?" he asked Kyra.

She nodded firmly. "The labyrinthian is only a few minutes walk away. We need to be prepared."

He sighed, tail twitching in agitation, but started walking. Kyra and Kruuyal followed, Kruuyal purposefully keeping his distance from her.

* * *

The silhouette of labyrinthian soon broke the horizon, the harsh lines jutting into the bleak sky. It had a measure of foreboding even when they were still some distance away, and now, as they stood staring at the steps carved into the stone, it loomed above them, sinister and oppressive.

Kyra moved first, placing a tentative foot on the first step, wary of the thin layer of ice. J'Zargo followed her, and they made their ascent up countless steps, the labyrinthian towering above them. A faint flurry of snow started as they reached what she estimated to be the halfway point, and by the time they reached the top, it had turned into a vicious snowstorm.

A large arch stood directly in front of them, cages hanging from rusted chains. A skeleton lay slumped in one, and as she passed underneath, a gust of wind dislodged a foot bone. It fell next to her, shattering upon impact, and she swallowed, passing under the arch.

The labyrinthian resembled something that could have once been a city. Large stone structures reached into the sky, collecting a think layer of snow. Sections of the stone were crumbling under the pressure of age, but the rest of it stood strong and immovable.

J'Zargo brought fire to his hands and moved in front, stepping silently on the snow. She unsheathed her swords, and as she did, she saw a glimmer of eyes in a dark crevice to her right. She didn't know what it was - probably an animal that was affected by Hircine's gift and therefore wouldn't attack her - but she didn't want to press her luck.

A faint pulsing caught her attention, and she stopped in her tracks. The familiar rhythm of a word wall cause a smile to creep over her face, but it felt different to usual. The pulses were occasionally overlapping - like hearing the distinct sounds of two clocks, and knowing one was faster than the other. There were two word walls.

She quickened her pace, passing a discarded cart - the owner no doubt dead - and met J'Zargo at a large door, the circular design reminding her of the door in the hall of stories.

J'Zargo was shaking his head, ears twitching at random intervals. "J'Zargo is going mad. He must be. Do you not see it?"

She frowned, following his gaze, but couldn't see anything. "What do you mean?"

"The ghost," J'Zargo whispered.

Her breath caught. "I…no. J'Zargo, there's nothing there."

"There is." Kruuyal's rumbling tone sounded in the whistling silence, and he was staring intently at the same place as J'Zargo was. "I may not be able to see it, but I can sense a disturbance. For some reason, it only reveals itself to the Khajit."

J'Zargo sighed, looking relieved. "So J'Zargo is not going crazy. He has had to wonder that many times, over the past few weeks."

"We should get the door open," Kyra interrupted, not wanting Kruuyal to speak too much. She didn't want their familiarity revealed.

She went to push open the door, but it was immovable beneath her hands. J'Zargo joined her in her efforts, and Kruuyal stood back and managed to look as though the mere idea of pushing a door open was beneath him.

J'Zargo gave up, kicking the door in frustration, snarling. He glared it, as though that would help, but when it didn't, he sagged against the door.

"Can't you shout it down?" he asked her.

Something inside her leapt at the chance but she forced it down. "No. I…I don't want to use the thu'um."

She could tell he was curious, but she stayed silent, thoughts started to muddle in her head. This had been happening a lot recently - disjointed thoughts and ways of thinking that were hard to follow, and harder to link back to the original prompt. She had learned by now just to let her mind do as it wished.

J'Zargo started suddenly by her side, and she cast curious eyes towards him. He was frowning at his pocket, eyes wide, and then reached it. The torque that Mirabelle had given to him was withdrawn, glowing slightly. It trembled in his hands, and then it gave a violent shudder and flew towards the door, latching onto it and forming a handle.

J'Zargo whooped in delight, the childish nature of his personality coming back in full force. "We're in!"

Kyra shook her head at his antiques, wishing she could join in with his laughter. Instead, she followed him into the blackness, Kruuyal by her side.

If she had been expecting a grand interior to match the outside, she was severely disappointed. The style of architecture was similar to every other Nordic ruin she'd been to, complete with a few skeletons littered on the floor - probably for dramatic effect.

She sighed, staying on high alert regardless, and crossed the room, continuing through the door and along several winding corridors. They walked in silence, each expecting something to attack them with each corner they turned.

And when it did, at least it was in a spectacular fashion.

They entered into a vast cavern, the expanse stretching far into the distance. Crooked pillars of stone held up a sagging ceiling, the lines of stone harsh and unforgiving. A foreboding sensation curled in her stomach and she shared a look with Kruuyal, knowing he was feeling the same.

They had barely set one foot into the room when the whole ground shuddered. She stumbled, instinctively catching her balance on Kruuyal. She withdrew her hand hurriedly, and made no effort to stop her mouth from falling open as she saw __something__ rise from the ground in front of them.

It was a skeleton dragon.

A __skeleton dragon.__

She shook her head in pure amazement, her curiosity overtaking her warrior instinct for a minute, until an arrow whistled next to her head. Skeletons - this time humanoid - were approaching from all angles, and she cursed, whirling to the side to avoid another arrow.

"Deal with the skeletons!" she shouted at J'Zargo, and caught Kruuyal's eye. He nodded, no speech needed, and together, they advanced on the dragon.

Remembering the connection she had shared with Mirmulnir, she reached out with her mind, trying to sense any intelligence but there was nothing, not even a spark of life. It wasn't too surprising - it __was__ a skeleton after all. Even better was the fact it didn't seem able to breath fire.

She circled around to the left, and Kruuyal went right. The dragon's skeletal head followed Kruuyal, seeing him as the larger threat, and dismissed Kyra entirely.

Briefly wondering whether it could feel pain, she aimed a quick slice at the dragon's ribcage, following up with another blow. Her sword bit into bone and the dragon snarled. It turned on her so suddenly that its tail caught Kruuyal with a heavy - if unintentional - blow.

She darted backwards, out of reach of snapping jaws, and then lunged in again. One of her swords attacked the head to keep it at bay, and the other buried itself in the dragon's empty eye socket. It roared, reeling back, and slashed its wing towards her.

She wasn't quite quick enough, and one of the smaller wing bones caught her across the chest. Her armour protected her from the worse of the blow, but it knocked the wind out of her. She wheezed, gasping for breath, and through blurry eyes, she saw Kruuyal attacking the dragon in a flurry of motion.

Her chest still aching, she gasped in a breath and ran at the dragon. She dodged another wing strike, and leapt up, onto the dragon's back. Kruuyal stayed on the ground, occupying the dragon to give Kyra the opportunity to attack its undefended back.

Swords raised high, she brought them down on the dragon's neck. It roared, voice filled with pain and whipped around, tail crashing into a nearby pillar. It trembled ominously. Kyra vaulted off, smashing into a skeleton as she did, and winced as her ankle twisted.

J'Zargo hurried up to her side, having dispatched of all the skeletons. She sent him a nod, before heading towards Kruuyal, who was still fighting off the dragon's attacks. The dragon was slower now, every movement slightly delayed, and Kruuyal was taking advantage of that.

In a similar move to Kyra's, he vaulted onto the dragon, but this time, he landed on its head. And as Kyra watched, he brought his greatsword down before the dragon could throw him off, and buried it in the dragon's skull. Bone splintered, shards flying up, as the dragon's legs trembled and it collapsed, mouth agape. Whatever magic had held the skeletal dragon together faded, and a pile of bones was all that remained, rattling faintly on the ground.

Kyra drew her eyes away from the sight, inexplicably sad. "We should carry on," she said to Kruuyal. "We can't afford to hang around."

"Do you need any healing potions?"

Kyra touched her chest gingerly, and winced. "I'll be fine. Save them for when we really need them."

He snorted. "Typical mortal. Too foolish to accept your weakness."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "I don't quite think you're one to lecture me on 'accepting my weakness'. You're the worst one here."

Kruuyal huffed and she smirked at him, before walking on, stepping over the scattered bones and continuing onwards. She could hear the muffled footprints of J'Zargo and the slightly louder thuds of Kruuyal behind her, but didn't turn around until she heard J'Zargo suck in a breath several minutes later.

Kyra turned around, and saw him staring at a pedestal and the space around it, seemingly oblivious to everything else. Kruuyal came up to her.

"There's another disturbance around here. The ghost he saw at the start is somehow connected. Wait for him to snap out of it."

It took a few minutes, but he eventually stirred, looking worried. He ignored Kyra's glance and continued on without saying anything. He didn't say what he had seen, and Kyra didn't ask.

They had been travelling for several minutes along winding corridors, when they entered into a small stone room. That alone wasn't cause for concern, but as soon as her foot edged past the threshold, __something__ seized her. It felt immeasurably old and powerful, and the sensation caused her breath to stutter in her throat as her blood sped up, pulsing heavily through her veins. She thought she saw streams of pale blue light dance across her eyes, but she knew she was imagining that.

" _ _Wo meyz wah dii vul janaar__?"

The voice shuddered into her soul, and she struggled to regain control over her body. She knew the voice spoke in the __Dovah-Zul__ , and was demanding to know who had come to here. And at the same time, she felt something draining from her, leaving her empty. She frowned, casting around a reason and then sucked in a breath. He was stealing her magika from her.

But she couldn't focus on that now. She swallowed, mouth dry, and tried to form words. " _ _Zu'u los Kyra Nightingale__ ," she said hesitantly, but the voice didn't reply for a few seconds. Then the presence fell upon her once more.

" _ _Hi…hi los ni Aren__?"

Her mind rippled, and she understood the words. __You…you are not Aren__? The voice seemed to think she was the arch-mage - he must have been here before, and visited the owner of the voice.

" _ _Nid. Wo los h__ i?" __No. Who are you?__

The voice paused. " _ _Zu'u los Morokei__." __I am Morokei.__

Then the presence faded, the feeling lifting from her body. She opened her eyes, not realising she'd closed them while talking with the mysterious voice, and…did Kruuyal look __worried?__

"What happened?" he demanded.

"There was a voice. It spoke to me. It…it called itself Morokei."

Kruuyal growled. "Morokei? Are you sure?" When she nodded, he growled again and J'Zargo glanced over from the opposite side of the room. When had he crossed over there? "He's a dragon priest - an arrogant human who groveled at the feet of the Dov for a chance to hold a sliver of their power. Some of them achieved a Lich-like immortality."

"A dragon priest?" J'Zargo asked. "J'Zargo is suddenly less confident about the chance of success of this mission."

Kyra didn't let her sigh escape.

A pile of ash on the floor caught her eye, as did a scorch mark on the opposite wall that hadn't been there when she'd entered the room. "What happened?" she asked, unintentionally repeating Kruuyal's question.

"You walked in and froze when it started talking to you. And then there was another ghost - this time visible to your Dremora as well, and it wasn't quite so friendly," J'Zargo said distractedly. He was examining the door, tail flicking, as fire continued to crackle in his hands.

Kyra gritted her teeth, hating the fact that she had been helpless.

"Give me a hand with this door," J'Zargo said. "It's stuck. No surprise really, it's been a while since someone's been down here."

She nodded, and braced herself against the door, using her Dov strength to shove it open.

Gripping her swords tighter, she walked through the door, and they continued on.

As they headed deeper into the ruins, the draugr become ever more plentiful. They were weak at the start, but as the darkness grew and the silence became ever more oppressive, the draugr increased in both strength and number. Kyra was forced to banished and Summon Kruuyal several times when he became injured - apparently time in Oblivion, no matter how short, healed his wounds.

J'Zargo stopped at random intervals throughout their journey, staring at nothing. By now, she was used to the invisible appearance of the ghosts and waited patiently for him to wake from the trance, and every time he did, he seemed just a little quieter than before.

And when the same thing happened to her, when the presence descended on her once more and the voice whispered for her to turn back, to give up, Kruuyal and J'Zargo waited for her. She had tried questioning the voice - Morokei - but he refused to give any more details about himself, and chose to taunt her instead. The insults would have cut deep a few months ago, but now they brushed over her, somehow not seeming applicable.

The pulsing rhythm of the word wall grew stronger as they carried on, and she welcomed the familiar beat, feeling it resonate in her blood. The pounding was so strong that she almost missed the first glowing draugr. It was fluorescent and see-through, tendrils of glowing light weaving together to form a humanoid shape. A spectral hound accompanied it, the blue light binding it together in much the same way as the draugr.

Both Kyra and J'Zargo halted, taken aback by the sight, but Kruuyal held no such inhibitions. He charged at the draugr, swinging his great sword with an impressive ease, and smoothly lopped off its head. The hound hesitated, seeming to glance at Kyra, before it threw itself at Kruuyal. He casually smashed a fist into its face, and then impaled it. The hound whimpered as it died, and Kyra felt something stir in her. She told herself to ignore it.

They encountered more of the glowing draugr and their hounds, and the rhythm of the word wall steadily grew louder as they headed along. Letting her instincts take the lead, she unerringly navigated the corridors, led by the word wall.

She spotted the word wall in the distance, the pulse calling to her as a section starting glowing. Something inside her pulled her forwards and she obeyed, ignoring Kruuyal's hurried words of caution. They rebounded off her mind, not leaving an impression. The rhythm overwhelmed everything.

Crossing the room seemed to pass in a heartbeat, and she stood in front of the word wall - waiting, waiting.

And then the power rushed towards her, the pulsing increasing until it echoed in her soul, and understanding filled her. __Ul__ , meaning eternity, to slow time down, to take the energy from speed, to watch the world move in thick molasses.

The pleasure followed soon after - weaker than a Summon but enough for her to draw in a breath as her senses became sharper, more acute.

It was with these briefly enhanced senses that she felt a motion behind her, a sudden gust of movement. Power still raging through her, she spun, raising her swords just in time to deflate the killing blow from hitting her.

The draugr deathlord growled.

She sucked in a shocked breath, glimpsing Kruuyal sprinting towards her from the corner of her eye. Kyra twisted to the side, disengaging, and Kruuyal took her place. He attacked, his greatsword a blur of motion, and the deathlord retreated.

J'Zargo was hurling spells at the deathlord, alternating between fire and lightening, although he was forced to pause on occasion to avoid hitting Kruuyal.

Kyra stood back, watching Kruuyal attack the deathlord, her senses still heightened. And as she did, something deep and primal woke inside her. It started as a sullen flame, but steadily built, becoming a roaring fire of instincts.

This was __her__ kill. __Mine__ , her mind snarled.

She rushed at the deathlord.

Kruuyal backed away, surprise clear in his features before his lips curved into a smile.

She didn't care enough to analyse his reaction. Every fibre of her body was focused on the threat in front of her, burning with anger. The deathlord advanced and she bared her teeth, leaping towards it. She slashed at the draugr, dancing around his counterattacks. Every strike of her swords made contact, severing muscle and bone.

The deathlord staggered back, and then swung its axe towards her head. She watched it come towards her, and something changed inside her. Something snapped into place.

And then she shouted.

" _ _FUS RO DAH!"__

The deathlord was thrown backwards, axe flying from its grasp, and it crumpled to the floor. She smiled.

Because why should she suppress something that was part of her? The thu'um was built into her, it was part of her soul, and she had been foolish to deny it. It had merely been an instrument when she slaughtered everyone at fort Neugrad.

She didn't give the deathlord the chance to recover, and smashed her foot into its knee. It staggered, dropping to one knee, and another kick sent it crashing to the floor.

She smiled viciously, and brought her swords down again and again on its withered body, fueled by a rage that burned deep inside as she imagined the swords were her claws tearing at the enemy.

And as she continued to drive her swords into her enemy, she thought she could hear Kruuyal whispering.

"Kill him. Give into your darkness. __Embrace it__." The last two words were growled with a low intensity, and it strengthened that dark, primal side of her - the side that was currently tearing the enemy to pieces. Her rational mind knew it was wrong, but it was starting to be overwhelmed by her dragon soul and-

"Kyra!"

It was only J'Zargo's shout, filled with shock, that snapped her out of her trance, and the dragon soul retreated a little. Reality crashed down around her.

Breath trembled in her throat and her grip on her swords slackened. The deathlord's body was almost unrecognisable, its face smashed in and ribcage cleaved clean. Shattered pieces of bone were scattered around its prone body.

Kruuyal straightened up by her side and she turned to face him, unable to say anything but trying to communicate through her eyes. She felt blood drip down her hands, sink into her skin, but when she glanced down, her hands were clean. Draugr didn't have blood.

She looked at the deathlord. But it wasn't the deathlord she saw - it was the broken body of Alaedra, blood spilling out of her wounds, her death wrought at Kyra's hands. This was the image that had tormented her dreams for so long, engraving itself into her mind. But then she blinked and the deathlord returned, and despite herself, the faint prickling of relief scuttled over her body - that it __was__ just a draugr.

"What was that?" J'Zargo demanded, and Kyra flinched as she remembered Alaedra saying those words such a long time ago - but was it really that long ago? She couldn't remember. Her thoughts were so cloudy - in response to a similar situation.

"She was getting rid of a threat," Kruuyal replied for her, and she heard the dangerous tone in his voice.

"Kyra…you-you looked __wild.__ You didn't need to stab it so many times." J'Zargo's tail twitched nervously.

"And what would you rather she did?" Kruuyal growled, stepping forwards to tower over J'Zargo. "Who are you, to presume the will of the dragonborn? Who are you, to control a dragon?"

J'Zargo backed down, but his fur was bristling. "Who is J'Zargo? He is a friend. And you are a __dremora__. J'Zargo actually cares about what Kyra wants, rather than pressuring her to become something she isn't." He turned to her, looking at her strangely. "But you're letting yourself be manipulated, all so you can forget whatever happened in your past. You aren't yourself, but you don't care. Because that's what you want, isn't it?"

Kyra swallowed, coldness creeping into her heart, replacing the fire. She seemed to be perpetually living in either one state or the other. Hot or cold. Angry or indifferent. "You don't know what I want," she said quietly, ignoring the fact that she didn't either. J'Zargo's words had struck a nerve. "And it was just a draugr. It was already dead anyway."

The strange expression didn't stray from J'Zargo's expression, but he nodded stiffly and turned away. He didn't wait to see if Kyra was following before walking off.

Kyra sighed, sheathing her swords and headed after him, thoughts whirling.

"It could have been a person, you know," Kruuyal said.

She stopped walking.

"It could easily have been a person," he continued, looking at her with a strange intensity. "And if it had been, would you really have reacted differently if the person was a threat? Would you really have killed them in a different way?"

She didn't reply. It was obvious that Kruuyal thought she wouldn't have cared about the difference between an emotionless draugr and a person.

And that was perhaps the most worrying thing - that she didn't know herself.


	30. Glorious

They walked in silence after that, taking care not to get too close to each other. J'Zargo stayed just a little ahead of her, gaze fixed and unmoving, and she purposefully kept a few metres between her and Kruuyal - she didn't dare look at him again, not after what he had said. He didn't seem as though he was affected by the silence and strode along as usual. After several minutes of a precarious quietness, they reached a large arched door and Kyra broke the silence.

"Morokei is through here," she said, nodding towards it as her grip tightened on her swords. She didn't know __how__ she knew that, just that it was true.

J'Zargo nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Kyra, focus on using your shouts against Morokei. Dremora…" He hesitated, looking conflicted. "Just hit him a few times." He seemed to be making an effort to put the previous encounter behind him and focus on the task in hand. Kyra offered him a nod to show she recognised his actions and would do the same.

J'Zargo walked forwards, placing both hands on the door, and braced himself against it, slowly pushing it open. He stepped through, and after a pause, Kyra followed.

The first thing that caught her attention was the sheer immensity of the cavern. A large, crumbling structure was situated in the middle, bridges arching across several platforms of stone and strange shapes carved directly into the side. Their blank grey eyes regarded her impassively as she edged over the threshold, their gaze unhindered by time.

And then she noticed the floating figure - Morokei, the owner of the mysterious voice that had taunted her throughout the Labyrinthian. A glowing force field curved around him as he hovered above the ground, robes rippling as though stirred by his energy.

"Look at the others," Kruuyal said quietly in her ear.

She frowned, wondering what he meant, and then she saw two ghostly figures standing atop the structure, beams of light streaming from their hands. They seemed to be maintaining the force field, preventing Morokei from escaping his prison and wreaking destruction.

"Morokei's holding a staff," J'Zargo said stiffly, casting a ward around himself before readying offensive magic in his hands.

"It's probably the staff of Magnus," she replied. "We'll need to get rid of the mages first, in order to bring the force field down."

They held a muttered discussion, wary of raising their voices too high, and it was finally decided that Kyra and J'Zargo would bring down the mages, and Kruuyal would initially attack Morokei. He should be able to hold his own until Kyra and J'Zargo managed to reach the site of fighting. Once the conflict was underway, they would periodically take shelter behind the structure to rest and use healing potions, although a minimum of two people would need to remain fighting Morokei.

Body vibrating with energy, she navigated her way around the ruins, heading for the furthest mage. His faintly glowing, ghostly figure was stark against the dimness of the cavern, and his prominent position at the top of the structure meant Kyra would be exposed when the force field fell - especially if Morokei used long-range attacks.

The stone steps shuddered under her feet as she ascended until she was level with the mages, and she sent a quick glance at J'Zargo, who was several metres away. He nodded.

She plunged her swords through the mage, feeling a strange sensation of hitting intangible flesh - it felt like attacking water, just somehow a little more…real. The mage groaned, the sound like the rumble of old stones, and his image dissipated into the air. The beams of light that had formed the force field fizzled away into nothingness, and the prison around Morokei fell.

Morokei's figure slowly changed from the same transparent nature as the mages, to something all too real and powerful. He kept his arms raised as though reveling in the closest sensation he'd had to humanity in years…and then recoiled as Kruuyal's sword caught him across the back.

Kyra was already moving, instantly knowing they'd underestimated Morokei as he turned to face Kruuyal, giving no indication he'd been wounded. But despite her haste, she could still see Morokei casually raise a hand filled with crackling lightening, and send it into Kruuyal's chest at point blank range.

A wordless cry escaped her lips as she saw Kruuyal thrown back, crashing into the wall and falling to the ground. He didn't move.

Throwing caution to the wind, she hopped up onto the ledge, steadying herself with her hands. The stone felt cool and dry beneath her fingertips, before she let go and felt herself fall towards the ground.

" _ _Gron bo__ ," she shouted as she plummeted, and her body became weightless. She guided herself to the ground, cloak flowing smoothly behind her, but was forced to dodge Morokei's streams of lightening as his attention turned to her. He hadn't moved from his position at the end of the cavern, seemingly confident in his abilities.

She alighted on the ground as the shout wore off, and returned an attack of her own.

" _ _Yol vey__."

The shout hummed pleasantly in her blood as it was released, and the fire whip formed, coiling sinuously above her head. With a quick thought, she cast it towards Morokei, who sent an ice bolt towards it. She swiftly moved her fire whip to the side, and then launched it at his leg. It coiled around his thigh and he growled with such intensity that it echoed around the room, before sending a wave of ice towards it. The fire whip convulsed, sections cracking, before it shattered completely.

Morokei turned towards her and she dove behind a pillar to avoid the subsequent stream of fire. She nodded to J'Zargo, who was leaping down the last few steps, and he took her place, exchanging bolts of magic with Morokei. The air crackled with power and hairs rose on her arms from the sheer intensity.

Kyra took advantage of Morokei's occupation with J'Zargo to glance at the place where Kruuyal had fallen. As she watched, she saw his body shimmer and vanish, as though she had banished him, and knew he had died. Heart thundering, she hurriedly reached for Oblivion, latching onto his unique magical signature and Summoning him. When he appeared in front of her, stepping out of the abyss with his characteristic look of being perpetually annoyed, she couldn't contain her sigh of relief. For once, the pleasure that thundered through her was only of secondary importance.

Kruuyal arched an eyebrow at her, amusement crossing his face as though he could read her mind, before unsheathing his sword and charging towards Morokei. Kyra followed.

And the fight continued.

Morokei easily moved among them, only taking a few hits of his own as he sent malign magic towards them. He didn't often use the staff of Magnus, and when he did, he usually aimed it at J'Zargo. Kyra didn't know what the effect was, but whenever it happened, J'Zargo could only maintain the fight for a little longer, before darting behind the structure to drink a potion. She suspected the staff sapped his magika levels, and whenever that happened, her and Kruuyal had to fight doubly hard to attack Morokei.

Both Kyra and J'Zargo took occasional rests to recover their health through either healing spells (J'Zargo) or healing potions (Kyra). Kruuyal, on the other hand, seemed to scorn such weaknesses, and threw himself at Morokei. He managed to land some powerful blows, forcing Morokei to retreat, but Morokei was equally as good as attacking long-range as he was short-range and sent bolts of pure magic towards Kruuyal.

Kyra used her shouts to form temporary shields that protected Kruuyal and J'Zargo, but she sometimes wasn't quick enough to protect Kruuyal and he died more than once. She privately wished Kruuyal was a little more powerful than he was - he was only a Kynval - but she would never have admitted such as thing to his face. He was very touchy about that particular topic.

Once the initial shock of seeing him die the first time had passed, she Summoned him back every time Morokei got the better of him, and the process would repeat itself.

They were wearing Morokei down, but it was taking too long. None of them knew what Ancano was doing back at the college, and time was of essence.

Kyra squared her shoulders, and took a step closer to Morokei. The fighting lulled for a minute, each side seizing the other up, analysing their strengths and weaknesses. Morokei regarded her impassively.

" _ _Hi vis ni hind wah viik zey,__ " Morokei said lowly, and she shivered at the sound of his voice.

She noticed J'Zargo recoil as he spoke, and translated Morokei's words mentally. __You cannot hope to win.__

Kyra hesitated, a part of her wanting to prove her dominance by attacking him - words had no use in a fight - but the rational side of her held her back.

" _ _Fos dreh hi laan__?" she asked instead. __What do you want?__ She wasn't entirely sure why she had though to ask that, but it seemed the right thing to do.

Morokei made a strange sound - it was stones grinding against each other, and the rumble of thunder, and the discordant clash of swords in a battle, and she realised he was laughing.

" _ _Daal do dii in__ ," he replied when his laughter had stopped. __The return of my masters.__

Kyra ignored how J'Zargo shifted uneasily by her side and took a step closer to Morokei, content with the knowledge that Kruuyal could protect her if needed. " _ _Dovah__ ," she stated. " _ _Vir los daal__?" __The dragons. How are they returning?__

It was a shot in the dark, and she didn't think Morokei would answer, but it was worth a try. She stiffened when he actually answered.

" _ _Alduin drun niin wah laas, nuz rok los sahlo ahrk gron ok sahlom wah niin.__ " __Alduin brings them to life-__

She froze in place, her suspicions confirmed. So it __was__ how the dragons were returning. Without concrete evidence, she hadn't been sure.

By the time she'd realised that Morokei had continued talking, it was too late for her to attempt to get her head around the translation.

She opened her mouth to continue, but Morokei suddenly stiffened, and then snarled at her, sounding strangely dragon-like. " _ _Nii los hi.__ "

Kyra frowned, quickly trying to translate his words in her head but before she could react, Morokei threw himself at her, lightening pulsing from his hands and arcing towards her. She dove to the side, hearing Morokei growl something else but was too preoccupied to translate it.

" _ _Hi drun oblaan, vulom. Hi fen kren nil, ahrk ful hi fen dir."__

Morokei ignored both Kruuyal and J'Zargo, instead choosing to focus on her. She was forced to dive to the side to avoid another of his attacks. Kyra landed in a crouch, steadied herself, and __shouted.__

 _"_ _ _FUS RO DAH MUL!__ "

Her throat burned and she choked as the power roared through her mouth, leaping eagerly to meet Morokei. He twisted to the side but it seemed they had manage to weaken him enough that he wasn't quick enough to avoid the onslaught of energy. It caught him on the side and he was thrown back a few metres, impacting with the ground.

Kyra straightened up, sprinting forwards as Morokei struggled to his feet. He raised his hands, and a slim sword formed, ghostly and pale in the way that only Summoned weapons could be.

She met his first swing with an attack of her own, then spun away to avoid his following up strike. Morokei pressed forwards, somehow still able to avoid J'Zargo's long distance attacks of fire and ice, and she backed away, rapidly defending. She didn't even have a moment to call up words for a shout.

Thankfully, Kruuyal joined the fight against Morokei in close quarters, wielding his great broadsword and driving Morokei back a few paces. He managed to strike Morokei a few times before the dragon priest sent him spinning away with a well placed swing of his sword.

Kyra rushed to fill in the space, aided by a well aimed ice bolt from J'Zargo. She attacked Morokei in a flurry of sword swings and thu'um based attacks, combing fire and ice and ebony.

She could see Morokei start to slow, his defences slower than usual, and she sped up, aiming four consecutive swings at his head, and then an elbow strike into his chest, followed by another sword swing.

Kyra had been hoping for it, but it was still a surprise when Morokei faltered and crashed to the ground. J'Zargo, quick to see the opportunity, caught him in twin streams of lightning, keeping him trapped on the floor, although she knew he wouldn't stay down for long.

Kyra acted first. Her Dov soul sending strength to her legs, she darted towards him, swords raised high. Morokei saw her coming and raised a ward around himself, J'Zargo's lightning deflecting to the side. Morokei smoothly got to his feet, magic readying in his hands, and sent a series of powerful blasts towards her.

Some of them impacted with the structure, cracks spreading across the stone before the magic ricocheted at disjointed angles. She dodged them, relying on her Dov senses to keep track of all the blasts, and when she was close enough to Morokei, she leapt into the air. And she brought her swords together and plunged them into his chest.

Morokei threw his head back, an inhuman scream emitting from his mouth, even as his body started to crumble. He seemed to decay before her eyes, sections of him drifting apart and turning into ash, even his robes. The ash floated gently towards the ground, glowing with a strange purple energy, and collected in a pile on the floor.

Everything had decayed…aside from the mask and the staff.

Ignoring the mask for the time being, she cautiously picked up the staff, weighing it in her hands. She hesitated, sensing J'Zargo approach from behind her, and then turned around.

"You should take this," she said, handing it over to him.

J'Zargo looked at the staff, and then looked at her, before slowly taking it. "Thank you," he said quietly. "J'Zargo appreciates it. But what about the mask?"

She looked at it, and shivered. "I don't want it," she said and walked off before J'Zargo or Kruuyal could reply. Either of them were welcome to it if they wanted it.

Kyra navigated her way around the structure, spotting a door on the opposite side of the cavern - it was probably a short-cut to the way out. While she waited, her mind returned to the word of power she had learnt earlier - Ul - and she started to combine __klo__ and _ _ul__ together in her mind. It took her several minutes to understand the meaning of the phrase as a whole, but understanding soon filled filled her, just as Kruuyal and J'Zargo caught up with her, J'Zargo sending wary glances towards the Dremora. She was faintly surprised to see neither of them had taken the mask, before shrugging. It didn't really matter to her.

After checking they were both good to continue, she pushed the door open, feeling a draft of cold air from somewhere ahead. And something else.

She cautiously sniffed the air, and then growled deep in her throat as she smelt a slick, oily scent - the smell that signified a Thalmor agent. It was faint, occasionally drifting in and out of range, but it was still there, and enough to pose a threat.

"What is it?" J'Zargo asked, quickly casting a ward over himself in preparation.

"Thalmor," she said shortly in reply. "Stay wary."

Unsheathing her swords once more, and watching as Kruuyal did the same, she continued on through the winding corridors. And all the while, the smell of oil grew steadily stronger.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust as the scent rose to new heights, sickening and slick, and then movement ahead caught her eye. A Thalmor agent appeared through a doorway, lightning already crackling in his raised hands.

She quickly exchanged a glance with Kruuyal and J'Zargo, readying herself for a fight.

"So, you made it out of there alive. Ancano was right - you are dangerous. I don't know what the," he paused a little as though considering his word choice, "Psijic Order have planned for the Eye of Magnus, but my loyalty is first and foremost to Ancano. He wants that staff kept safe…oh, and he wants you dead. Nothing personal," he added, and his voice sent shivers down her spine.

"Get out of my way," she said, and Kruuyal subtly shifted into a fighting stance.

The Thalmor agent smiled. "Oh, I don't think so," he said, casting a ward around himself, and then before Kyra could react, lightning was streaming towards her.

" _ _Klo ul__ ," she said softly, using the newly enhanced shout, and the lightning slowed, crawling through the air. The shout would last for longer than it originally had, but the effect wouldn't remain forever. She ducked around the lightning, checking that neither Kruuyal or J'Zargo were in its line of fire, before darting towards the Thalmor agent. She sent a sword swing towards him, but the ward around him weakened the blow.

The agent started to stagger backwards, still moving in slow motion, but starting to speed up. Before time could revert to its usual course, she sent a series of attacks towards him. The ward around him shattered after her second blow, but before she could send a third one towards him, time caught up.

He staggered backwards, sending a frantic wave of magic towards her, and she twisted to the side. J'Zargo did the same but Kruuyal weathered the onslaught, gradually moving towards the Thalmor agent despite the waves of magic that crashed into him.

The Thalmor agent eventually sagged, magika supplies exhausted, and in the instance he did, Kruuyal raised his sword high and smoothly brought it down on his neck. A crimson shower of blood spurted out, drenching Kruuyal, and Kyra watched in morbid fascination as the agent's head finally came to a rolling stop by her feet, She squashed the urge to kick it.

"If Ancano sent him, he may have taken control of the college," J'Zargo said urgently, already moving. "We need to get back now."

Kyra nodded, and hurried after him, adrenaline fueling her steps. The draft of cold air grew stronger and it wasn't long until they eventually emerged into the open. The Labyrinthian was spread before them, a flicker of its original splendor still lingering, even as the snow slowly buried the ancient stones.

She wanted to look around the ruins more, especially as the pulsing beat of another word wall caught her attention - coming from behind a small door - but she didn't have time to investigate it. Instead, she followed J'Zargo as he darted between the crumbling ruins, down the treacherous steps and through a landscape that gradually decreased in harshness, until they were standing outside Drelas' cottage.

"Mirabelle said that J'Zargo can activate the teleportation runes by himself," J'Zargo muttered, staring intently at the runes beneath his feet. "But how?"

"Maybe it just needs power," Kyra suggested.

J'Zargo's eyes lit up, fire appearing in his hands as Kyra turned to Kruuyal.

"The teleportation can only take two people. I need to banish you." She kept her words short and her tone blunt, not wanting J'Zargo to see how close she was to Kruuyal, although it seemed he'd already guessed much of their relationship.

Thankfully, Kruuyal didn't say anything, but just inclined his head. Kyra sighed in relief, and flickered her wrist to banish him, before turning to J'Zargo and stepping over to the circle of runes.

"Ready?" she asked J'Zargo.

He nodded, squaring his shoulders, sending a narrow stream of concentrated fire at the runes. Nothing happened for a minute, and then the runes started glowing, brighter and brighter still, until she had to shield her eyes from the glare. And then the floor dropped out from beneath her feet and the world dissolved in a burst of golden light once more.


	31. Unexpected aid

Kyra stumbled as she landed on the snow, trying to keep her balance as the world undulated around her, before eventually settling in place. She swallowed, glancing at J'Zargo to check he was okay, but he wasn't looking at her - no, his gaze was fixed on the college that towered above them in the distance.

Dread coiling in her stomach, she raised her gaze to the stone walls, and sucked in a breath when she saw a blue storm of magic surrounding the college. It was barely indistinguishable in the flurries of snow, but she could __feel__ it. She could feel the crackle of energy against her skin, taste the metallic quality in her mouth.

Kyra tore her gaze away first. "Come on," she muttered to J'Zargo, and started making her way up the snowy bank, towards Winterhold.

She'd been expecting Winterhold to be deathly quiet, as the people took shelter in their homes, away from the dangers of unknown magic. But instead, it was packed full of people. She raised an eyebrow, before realising they were all mages from the college - she'd probably passed most of them in the corridors at some point during her stay.

There weren't many civilians on the streets, but she did see Tolfdir talking to the Jarl of Winterhold. The Jarl - what was his name? - looked highly uncomfortable.

J'Zargo strode past her, holding the staff in a careful grip, and headed straight for Tolfdir, interrupting the conversation. The Jarl hurried away, looking relieved.

"J'Zargo has the staff," the Khajit said to Tolfdir. "We can use it against Ancano."

"Thank the Eight you're both okay," he said as Kyra joined them. "Ancano's power is growing. He's shielding himself in the college and we tried to organise a counterattack - hence why everyone is out here - but we can't break through. The staff, however, should destroy a section of the shield. Theoretically." Tolfdir looked worried, his face drawn and haggard.

Kyra continues scanning the crowds, looking for Mirabelle again, but couldn't see her. "Where's Mirabelle?" she asked Tolfdir, instantly considering the worse possibility.

"She's fine," Tolfdir said. "Injured, but she'll be okay. It was a little touch and go for a while though."

Kyra nodded, relief filling her. She didn't know if she could stand any more people dying - people she knew, people she was friends with.

"J'Zargo needs to get into the college," J'Zargo interjected. "We shouldn't leave it any longer."

"You're right," Tolfdir said instantly, and Kyra could almost feel the instance the social power reversed positions.

Now, it was J'Zargo who stood tall and proud, the staff of Magnus held at his side. His face was set with determination, eyes alight with magic.

"What will the staff do?" he asked Phinis, not taking his eyes away from the college.

"It should break a section of the shield surrounding the college, although for only a short amount of time. I've exchanged calculations with Phinis and Arniel, and they both agree that despite the capabilities of the staff, it'll only weaken Ancano's shield for a maximum of five seconds, and there'll be a dangerous backlash of energy.

"Now, Kyra. I understand you want to help, but I think it may be best for a more…experienced mage to accompany us if we're to face Ancano."

Kyra opened her mouth to object, pride rising in her, but J'Zargo beat her to it.

"No," he said simply.

"No?" Tolfdir raised his eyebrows.

Kyra shot J'Zargo a warning look, and he sent a nod towards her before turning back to Tolfdir. "Kyra will be more useful than you think. Trust J'Zargo on this."

Tolfdir looked at her, lips pursed, before finally relenting. "Fine, fine. We can't waste any more time. J'Zargo, take the lead and weaken the shield. It may need several blasts from the staff."

J'Zargo let out a long breath, squared his shoulders, and then set off for the bridge that joined the college to Winterhold. Tolfdir closely followed him, and after a faint pause to quell the sense of foreboding that settled on her, Kyra headed after them.

The bridge was treacherous with ice as she stepped onto it, and she was forced to rely on her Dov soul to keep her sense of balance. Ahead of her, Tolfdir wobbled precariously, hands outstretched as he strove to stay on his feet.

When they were half-way across the bridge, J'Zargo halted as he encountered the shield. It was only a faint shimmer in the air, but Kyra could feel the repelling nature of it, even as far back as she was from it. J'Zargo raised the staff, and sent a bolt of magic towards it.

He sent more blasts towards it, and each time the magic impacted with the shield, the sound of gradual shattering filled the air. Kyra stayed a few metres back, wary of something exploding. And finally, something gave.

A tangible wave of energy blasted outwards, continuous and unrelenting, and even though Kyra had a firm stance, she still staggered backwards from the onslaught of power.

"Come on!" J'Zargo shouted, his fur tangling with the force of the energy. "It'll seal itself in a minute!"

Kyra gritted her teeth, clenched her fists, and then tried to break into a run, heedless of the fall that could await her just a short distance either side. Being as far away as she was, she had the hardest time trying to get through the gateway that J'Zargo had created. The very air seemed to push her back until it seemed as though she was running through thick molasses.

Both J'Zargo and Tolfdir were on the other side of the shield now, protected from the vicious energy, and were looking back at her with alarmed eyes. They didn't think she could make it in time.

She growled, her movement slowed to a mudcrab's pace, and unbidden, words rose in her mind. " _ _Riik feim!__ " __Gale fade.__

Immediately, the force weakened. It was no longer buffeting her quite as strongly, and she was able to regain her footing and dash the last few metres, before throwing herself through the narrowing gap in the shield. She sprawled on the floor, almost colliding with J'Zargo.

"Are you okay?" J'Zargo asked as he pulled her to her feet. "J'Zargo was worried…he thought you might not make it."

It seemed their earlier argument had been forgotten in the face of such overwhelming odds, and she offered him a faint grin. "Of course I'm fine," she said, her blood thrumming in her veins. "Even if I'd been pushed off the edge, I could just fly up again, remember?"

He nodded, relaxing slightly, and they were about to move on when Tolfdir made a choking sound. Kyra glanced at him, and inwardly smirked at his expression of awe and a hint of fear. "You…you can use the voice?" he whispered.

"Better. I'm the dragonborn." She didn't understand why she'd hidden it from everyone before. She shouldn't need to cower behind the weight of their expectations. Kyra inclined her head and without waiting for his response, started moving onwards.

The courtyard was eerily silent as she walked through it, and she could almost imagine it was midnight and she was heading out to her usual tree to Summon. But there was something about the suspenseful nature of the silence that was a stark contrast to the peaceful quietness she usually felt. Shivers crept up her spine.

J'Zargo and Tolfdir caught up with her just before she opened the door to the interior. Tolfdir was still staring at her but J'Zargo kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, gripping the staff of Magnus in one hand, with fire in the other. She glanced at him, and then pushed the door open, unsheathing her swords as she did.

The eye of Magnus was still hovering in the centre of the hall of the elements, glowing with contained power. Ancano stood opposite, feeding energy into it. Crackling lightening flowed from his hands, impacting with the eye and making the glow of power increase ever so slightly.

Kyra walked cautiously towards him, and halted when she was still a few metres away. She could sense J'Zargo and Tolfdir come to a stop just behind her, on either side.

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" Ancano whispered harshly without taking his eyes from the eye of Magnus. "You think I can't destroy you? The power to prevent the darkness is at my fingertips. I __will__ save the Dominion."

Kyra sucked in a breath at the word __darkness__ , her mind falling back into the past to recall the cryptic note that the Thalmor agents possessed. ' _ _Kyra Nightingale must be killed. She brings the darkness__.'

She'd obsessed about what the darkness was for so many weeks - hours spent lying awake in bed - that she'd never considered the simplest explanation, and the realisation smashed into her. The darkness was Alduin - his fathomless black scales, his hunger for destruction, his instinctual need to wipe out the light of life.

It all made sense. And her very presence in Skyrim was driving Alduin to bring together his brothers to destroy her - their only threat - before they could turn their attention to the rest of humanity.

But why would killing her stop the darkness? Unless…unless Ancano had realised the potentially destructive nature of her dragon soul, and feared that she may turn to the side of the dragons, turn towards the darkness. He wanted her dead rather than run the risk of the dragonborn on the side of the dragons.

Kyra opened her mouth to find out more, but before any words could emerge, J'Zargo growled from behind her. She felt warmth flare on the back of her neck, and then a wave of fire rushed past her and headed towards Ancano.

He made no effort to dodge. Instead, he simply stood there, still focused on the eye as the fire hit him…and dissipated. Ancano scoffed. "I am beyond your pathetic attempts at magic. You can't touch me. None of you can. Not even you…Nightingale." He finally moved his gaze towards her, and Kyra found herself wishing he hadn't.

There was something lurking in his eyes, a distorted version of reality perhaps, as though he was looking into a world so unlike the one he knew, or the knowledge of too many truths that they had merged to become a complex, intricate web of deceptions. And it scared her. She tore her eyes away and fixed her gaze on a spot just above his head.

"J'Zargo will use the staff on the eye," J'Zargo muttered to her from the corner of his mouth. "J'Zargo doesn't know what it will do, but hopefully it will at least distract him, and weaken his hold."

She nodded, as small a motion as she could make it. J'Zargo flexed his grip on the staff and then whirled to the side, firing bolts towards the eye.

A snarl split Ancano's face as he turned to face the Khajit. "It will be a pleasure to destroy you."

Kyra frowned as Ancano gathered more magic into his hands, feeding more and more energy into it, before throwing it towards the eye. It impacted with the bronze mental, and the strange lettering inscribed into the surface glowed briefly.

And the eye of Magnus started to split open.

Jagged sections disconnected from each other, rising a little above the surface to reveal a bubbling mass of light that hurt her eyes to look at. And the __power__. She could feel the sheer energy that had been contained within the eye. She gasped, light-headed as the power rushed into her, seeping through every crevice in her bones. Kyra felt herself take a step towards it, hand outstretched in an attempt to be even closer to this addictive power.

And then the world shook. She staggered, falling to one knee to weather the reverberations that rattled through her skull, her eyesight blurring as the onslaught continued. The ground shifted beneath her feet and bile rose as she swallowed convulsively. The vibrations started to slow, enough that she could scramble to her feet, and when they finally stopped, she could see two magical anomalies emerging from the seething, boiling mass of energy.

She growled, raising her swords and swung at the first one. But her sense of equilibrium hadn't recovered quite yet - she could still feel phantom shudders in the earth as it groaned beneath her feet - and she missed, almost falling over in the process. She lashed out blindly, and through pure luck, managed to connect two of her blows with it. The ball wobbled precariously in the sky, and then a joint attack of fire from Tolfdir and J'Zargo caught it in the midst of the two streams. It whimpered quietly as it imploded on itself, becoming a faintly glowing pile of sludge on the floor.

Ancano had taken care of the other magical anomaly, and now he whirled to face them, anger contorting his face. He raised his hands, a sickly green colour filling them, and then flung it towards them.

Words sprang into her mind, and without thinking, she just shouted.

 _"_ _ _Spaan s__ _ _uleyk!" Shield power.__

A shimmering transparent barrier coalesced in front of her, and Ancano's attack impacted harmlessly against it, dissipating on contact. She opened her mouth to shout again, to form shields for J'Zargo and Tolfdir, but the magic hit them before she could do anything. They froze in place, a film of green energy covering their body, the staff stuck in J'Zargo's hand. She recognised the spell now - it had been popular in Morrowind. Mass paralysis.

She fed power into her shield, keeping it strong to prevent any more of Ancano's attacks, but he wasn't readying any more offensive magic. Instead, he was fixing her with a penetrating gaze and something cold seized her heart as she looked into his eyes once more.

"What are you?" he asked, and she remembered the same question just before he activated the eye of Magnus. She was still clueless. But she needed to keep him talking.

"What do you mean?" she asked, choosing her words with caution. Her arms started itching, reminding her she hadn't Summoned in some time. She ignored it.

He let out a wild laugh, but his eyes stayed on her. "Ah, but you don't know, do you? You have no idea what you will end up doing."

"I haven't done anything," she said, trying to keep her calm, and confirm her suspicions about the meaning of the cryptic note, even as the itching increased. She couldn't afford to barge in and demand that he answer her questions. It seemed as though the addictive power from the eye of Magnus was causing his tongue to loosen, and she was going to exploit that, turn it to her advantage.

"Not yet. I __will__ save the Dominion, their plans for power be damned, even if they didn't deem me worthy enough to know. I only found out on the floating whispers of my superiors that filtered around corners and told me everything I needed to know."

Kyra swallowed, and surreptitiously cast her gaze to the side as movement caught her attention. J'Zargo's tail was starting to twitch as the paralysis spell wore off. Ancano was still human, no matter how much it seemed he thought otherwise, and he was preoccupied with her. All she needed to do was keep his focus on her until J'Zargo could use the staff again. She let her shield drop.

"And what are their plans?" she asked, gritting her teeth as her hands started shaking, and started to rake her fingers up and down her arms as the itching yet increased.

He scoffed. "Plans built on crumbling foundations. They place too much faith in the power of prophecies. But they can be changed, twisted into different interpretations, destroyed completely. Fate is not inevitable. I will change this prophecy. I will not let the Shattering occur."

She stiffened. Shattering? She wanted to ask, but knew he wouldn't share any information with her. "And how am I a threat to y-"

He cut her off with a sharp gesture. "Enough. I have entertained your questions for long enough," he growled, mood switching in an instance, reminding her of Kruuyal's unsettling changes in emotions. "You…"

He continued talking but her attention faded from his words as the too-familiar tremors invaded her body and the pervasive coldness spread. She gasped as pounding began in her head, sending spikes of pain shooting behind her eyes.

She needed to Summon. She needed to-

"...And I will be the one to save the world!" Ancano shouted, raising his hands high. A ball of lightning formed, revolving in his hands, and with a smooth motion, he sent it spinning towards her.

She reached for the Dovah words for a shield and they coalesced in her mind as jagged fingers started to stretch out from the churning ball of lightning.

Kyra groaned from the pain in her head, tears starting to spring up in her eyes.

She opened her mouth, the Dovah words preparing to spill easily from her lips as she imagined the impenetrable shield forming, saving her from harm. The first syllable emerged from her mouth.

And then the lightning impacted with her shoulder.

She felt an instance of coldness reaching into her bones, before burning pain gripped her shoulder with implacable fingers and flung her back. She barely felt herself collide with the stone wall, her body overtaken with tremors that weren't just due to a lack of Summoning. Her shoulder jerked in its socket, spasming, and her body jolted as the traces of lightning arced over her body.

Kyra tried to shout out but her jaw was locked in place, teeth clenched tight from the pain. Her body ached. It didn't seem to belong to her.

She didn't remember raising her hand. She didn't remember falling into her trance. She didn't remember reaching for Oblivion.

Yet somehow, the purple abyss materialised in the air, and Kruuyal appeared from the depths of it. He looked at her, an indescribable expression on his face, and took a step towards her. But then he paused, his head tilted to the side.

And everything else seemed to disappear. All that existed was her and Kruuyal, in the centre of a tremulous juncture. She could feel the anticipation as the moment hung and hung, motionless in the eye of a storm, just waiting for a decision to divert a course, to change… _ _something.__

Time eventually caught up, slowly at first, and then all at once. Kruuyal shook his head, unsheathed his sword, and then charged towards a distant figure that she assumed was Ancano.

And she couldn't help but feel that something had changed.

Her thoughts were slowing and muddling in her head. She couldn't see what was going on. Her eyesight was growing blurry as her body continued to twitch spasmodically. There were flashes of lights, yells, the smell of burning flesh.

And then a body landed beside her. It impacted with the ground, and didn't move.

Kyra blinked, her vision still fuzzy, but she was able to recognise the damaged body of Ancano. He was barely alive, blood streaming from multiple wounds over his body, but somehow he managed to look her in the eye with startling lucidity.

"You have doomed us all," he whispered. And then his eyes clouded over and breath froze in his lungs.

There was more shouting in the distance, and blurry figures started moving towards her. She had an instance of quietness, before an indistinct face swam into view. She vaguely recognised it as Tolfdir. His hands seemed to be on fire with a golden light, but she couldn't find enough energy to care.

And then that light descended on her and she gasped as the warmth of a powerful healing spell swam over her, cocooning her in a protective layer. She could feel it soothing her aches and allowing her muscles to stop spasming, and finally, she was able to think clearly again.

She slowly sat up, her body aching and sore. "What…happened?"

"Take it easy," J'Zargo said quietly. He looked uncharacteristically worried. "You took a powerful hit and healing spells aren't completely effective. J'Zargo wasn't sure if…You weren't moving."

She offered a weak smile, and he returned it with a relieved one of his own.

"Are you okay?"

At first, she thought it had been J'Zargo who had spoken. But his mouth hadn't moved, and the resonance was too deep, too gravelly, to be J'Zargo.

She stared at Kruuyal, feeling her eyes widen, before scrambling to her feet, ignoring Tolfdir's protests that she still needed to rest and recover.

"What did you say?" she asked Kruuyal, still incredulous.

He looked uncomfortable. "Forget I said anything."

She scoffed. "You expect me to pretend you didn't ask me if I was __okay?__ You think I-"

"Enough."

She was cut off by Kruuyal's warning growl, and, recognising the dangerous undertone, dropped the topic. "I never should have expected a straight answer from you," she said, shaking her head and turning away from him. And then she remembered. She stopped in her tracks.

"I…I didn't Summon you, did I," she said, still facing away from him.

Silence.

"No," he said slowly, like his answer was dragged out of him unwillingly.

"You came of your own volition."

There was another pause and she whirled around, not willing to let it drop, not this time. "You came of your own volition, didn't you?" she asked again, more forcefully.

"...yes," Kruuyal finally said.

Someone muttered something behind her but she ignored it.

"Why?"

Kruuyal shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and she suddenly realised how human he acted, just from spending time with her. "I saw you were in danger. And I was…bored." He seemed as though he was casting for an excuse.

"Kruuyal, were you __worried__ about me?"

"I don't need to answer your questions," he growled, sneering, his voice several octaves lower than usual. "You are none of my concern. You're just a __mortal__." He avoided her eyes.

"You're an unbound dremora," Tolfdir said weakly from behind her. "You-you could attack any of us."

Kyra turned around to see a bolt of ice starting to form in Tolfdir's hand, and without thinking, without weighing up the consequences, she stepped in front of Kruuyal.

Tolfdir lowered his hands in shock. "Kyra, what are you doing?"

"You don't need to attack him," she said, holding her arms out in what she hoped was a calming gesture, but Tolfdir only summoned ice to his other hand as well.

"He's a dremora! Step away Kyra."

She didn't move. "He came here because I was in danger, no matter what he claims."

"He'll kill us all," Tolfdir said lowly, gathering more ice into his hands until a jagged icicle began to form, revolving above his palms.

"Kruuyal won't. I…I trust him not to hurt me," she stated quietly.

Tolfdir stumbled, gaping at her, and J'Zargo looked uncomfortable, tail twitching. But Kruuyal's reaction was far more extreme. He growled, taking a deliberate step away from her, and she looked around in surprise.

"You shouldn't trust me," he said, the words rumbling in his throat. "I'm a dremora."

"You didn't need to come. When you saw I was in danger, you came because you wanted to, not because I'd tied you into a deal."

"This could be a trick," he snarled, and Tolfdir flinched, raising a ward around himself. "I could be getting close to you on the orders of my Lord Dagon. Aren't you at least worried about that?"

"No," she said simply. "Because I can take care of myself, and you've had more than enough opportunities."

Kruuyal shook his head, clenching his fist. He seemed to want to say something - she could see it in the tilt of his shoulders and the tightness of his lips and when had she learnt to read him so well? - but he turned away instead. And then his body wavered and disappeared as he faded away to Oblivion.

Tolfdir sighed in relief, lowering his hands.

Kyra stayed looking at the space where Kruuyal had disappeared, wanting to Summon him back and force him to tell her whatever it had been he was going to say. But Summoning him would only increase the tension in the room more, and he wouldn't tell her anything. Not yet.

"What happened?" she asked instead. "How did you defeat Ancano?"

No one said anything for a short while and she waited. Finally, J'Zargo sighed. "He was vulnerable when the eye of Magnus was closed. J'Zargo used the staff of Magnus on the eye, and when it was closed, your dremora - Kruuyal - was able to attack him, and kill him."

"We knew you would succeed," a new voice spoke, and she twisted around.

A high elf stood next to the eye of Magnus, wearing yellow robes lined with silver detailing. A bird in flight was stitched onto the cuff. He regarded her impassively and then turned to J'Zargo. "Your victory here justifies our belief in you. You have proven yourself worthy to lead the college of Winterhold, as long as you continue to respect our wishes for the future."

A smile spread across J'Zargo's face and he offered a half bow. "J'Zargo would be delighted, Quaranir. Thank you."

"What do we do now?" Kyra asked, and then shivered when Quaranir looked at her. There was something about his gaze that unsettled her.

"The eye could still grow unstable at any moment. It cannot remain here, where another opportunist could use it for their own benefit."

She frowned. "It looks stable enough to me, now that Ancano isn't siphoning off the energy from it."

"Oh, I hadn't realised you were an expert on sources of magical power. Feel free to do as you wish with this dangerous artifact," Quaranir said mockingly, and she blushed. "No? In that case, I suggest you be quiet." He strode over to the eye of Magnus, obviously considering the conversation to be over.

Another two figures dressed in the same robes as Quaranir stepped out of the air, and then spoke in hushed tones. She could overhear a few of their words.

"Ancano...eye of Magus…stable to transport…dragonborn…"

But she couldn't pick up on any of the other words, even with her Dov hearing, and felt she was missing out on half the conversation. The high elves then scattered, moving to stand in a triangle surrounding the eye of Magnus.

"Wait!" J'Zargo called out, stepping forwards. "Where are you taking it?"

"To somewhere secure," Quaranir answered smoothly. "Ancano's actions have proven that the world isn't ready for such power."

"What was the threat he was talking about? I know that the darkness refers to the dragons, but…" Kyra trailed off.

"The Shattering? It is something unavoidable. And when it arrives, the world will need this power, whether it's ready for it or not," Quaranir said. He looked grave, but when he turned away, the corners of his lips were faintly upturned.

And then the eye of Magnus started glowing, brighter and brighter still, until she had to shield her eyes. And when she removed her hand, both the Psijic Order and the eye of Magnus were gone, and all that remained was the faint smell of slick oil.


	32. Beyond help

Everything seemed to go back to normal afterwards. Magic was still practiced, mages roamed the stone halls, and it seemed as though the events surrounding Ancano and the Eye of Magnus had never happened.

A few things were different, of course. J'Zargo was now the arch mage, and couldn't be happier with the respect he garnered, and could be seen strutting along the corridors, dressed in fancy robes. But the events of the past month had changed him. He was more serious, less arrogant, and despite occasionally taking advantage of the benefits bestowed upon him for being grand mage, was surprisingly humble about it all.

Kyra thought she was the only person to see the far more subtle changes. There was a permanent feeling of __wrongness__ that hung in the college, concentrated in the hall of the elements where the eye of Magnus had hung. It clung to the air with slick fingers, tainting everything with a film of oil. No one else felt it, laughing even as it choked Kyra, stealing the breath from her lungs.

They didn't seem to notice the deception as they skillfully avoided talking about Ancano, plastering the past with fake smiles and nervous laughter. Kyra didn't talk about it either. But that didn't mean she didn't feel the weight of lying.

But of course, this wasn't the only thing she was lying about. Her… _ _reliance__ on Summoning was getting worse, sapping energy and life from her limbs. The times between Summoning were spent sprawled on her bed, limbs askew as fuzziness invaded her head. People occasionally knocked on her door, but she didn't have the energy to reply and they eventually left her to her seclusion.

Kruuyal was the only one who kept her company in these lows. After the events of Ancano, he refused to talk to her when she Summoned him, instead trying to keep as far away from her as possible. But gradually, the tension between them faded and they started talking again. And despite his refusal to talk more about why he came to save her, he seemed to understand what she needed better than anyone, and their conversations were a bright flicker in her days of darkness.

She spent most of her time outside now, beyond view of the college, Kruuyal continuing to keep her company in the snow. Kruuyal didn't say anything - not that she'd ever expect him to admit it - but she could tell he enjoyed the conversations.

Yet he seemed to have changed too. Although he urged her to stop being so reliant on Summoning with increasing intensity, he no longer tried to persuade her to become stronger through the acceptance of her dragon soul. She assumed his silence on the matter was because she'd found a tentative balance between her human side and her dragon side.

In fact, it seemed everyone was changing, progressing in their lives, looking for the next opportunity. Everyone aside from her. She was stuck in stasis, floating from one day to the next with no vision of the future. She was a ghost drifting along the corridors, watching as people's lives played out, but unable to continue hers.

When the conversations between her and Kruuyal naturally lulled into silence, her mind turned more and more often to Alaedra. Had she made a mistake by driving Alaedra away? Was Alaedra really safer away from her? Could she forgive everything that had been said?

She still didn't know.

So she Summoned instead.

* * *

When Phinis called her to his office a week later, she assumed it was about starting their lessons again. There were still so many Summons she hadn't managed to successfully complete, like a golden saint or winged twilight.

But when she knocked cautiously on the door to his office and entered, he greeted her with an uncharacteristic solemn silence. She hovered by the door, waiting for him to say something.

When he finally spoke, she could hear the weariness and trepidation in his tone. "Take a seat, Kyra."

With slow steps, she did as he said, and waited for him to continue. She twisted her hands in her laps, making sure her gloves were covering the black tendrils on her hands and lower arms, and kept her gaze on the floor.

"Do you know why I've called you here?"

She shook her head, but he seemed to want a verbal answer. "To continue our lessons?" she said hopefully, but the tension that hung around the conversation indicated a different topic.

Phinis sighed and shook his head. "No. There's something I need to talk to you about. I feel…bad for not noticing sooner. The task down in the Midden occupied much of my time, and then with Ancano, I just didn't have time to consider anything else apart from keeping the college safe."

"Okay," Kyra said slowly, starting to realise where this conversation was going, but dreading it all the same.

"It was arch mage J'Zargo that informed me, actually. I had a growing suspicion, but I hadn't seen you properly in so long." He trailed off.

She waited, gritting her teeth.

"Kyra…look at me."

She tensed. If she looked at him, he would notice the gold ring around her pupils. It would be the last piece of evidence he needed to see that she was addict- _ _reliant__ on Summoning. She couldn't let Phinis see. She couldn't. She couldn-

Kyra looked up.

He seemed to grow older before her eyes, shrinking in his chair. "Kyra…" he breathed, his hand falling limply on his desk. "What have you done to yourself?"

She looked away first, glancing back at the floor. This was a mistake. She never should have come to his office. "I'm sorry," she muttered, but she didn't know who she was apologising to.

"Don't," Phinis said quietly. "It should me apologising to you. I should have realised, I should have taken action sooner. It was my responsibility as a teacher."

Kyra shook her head. "It wouldn't have made any difference."

"I should have tried. But instead, you're addicted. No, don't protest. You __are__ addicted, Kyra."

"No. I'm not. I'm not addicted…I'm not addicted…I…I…" Her mind looped. The same thought scuttled around her head, echoing and rebounding and reverberating. __I'm not addicted__.

She could feel her breath speed up. Not enough air.

 _ _Addicted.__

Kyra heard Phinis asking if she was okay, but it seemed to come from very far away, muffled as though covered by a film of oil. Everything was spinning, faster and faster, and she couldn't hold onto anything. It slipped away between her fingers.

 _ _Addicted.__

She turned away, towards the door, and stumbled through it, her mind tumbling.

Phinis called out to her, but she ignored it, starting to run through the corridor. Her feet trembled as they came into contact with the ground, her footfalls echoing her thumping heart. Blood pulsed through her veins, thick and heavy and sluggish.

 ** _ _ **Addicted.**__**

She rounded a corner, motivated by some unknown force that pressed her onwards, just as someone stepped in front of her. Unable to stop, she collided with them, sending them both sprawling. Loose papers floated to the floor.

Kyra groaned from her position on the cold floor, her body starting to catch up with her sudden flight.

"Watch it!" The person she had crashed into was slowly getting to his feet. "Are you blind?"

Her mind was still whirling. "I'm sorry," she said, stumbling over her words. "I didn't mean to." Her muscles thrummed and trembled with unreleased energy. She felt the walls start to close in on her again, felt the air become thick and stifling, felt the arms start itching with an oh-so familiar sensation.

"You're…that girl." The breton - she'd seen him a few times in the halls and knew he was a student of alteration - looked at her. He was young, only a teenager.

"What?"

"The only Summoner student in the college. A lot of people have been talking."

Kyra bristled. "And what have people been saying?" she asked sharply.

Something in her tone, or the look on her face, must have set warning bells ringing, because he paled, and back-tracked suddenly. "Nothing! Nothing, really. Just idle gossip."

She stalked forwards, smiling faintly as he took an uncertain step back. The restless energy that skittered in her veins was sharp and focused now. "And do you believe what they say, hmm?"

"N-no! Of course not. You aren't addicted. Anyone can see that."

Kyra shook her head slowly and smirked. "But I am. I am addicted, and right now, you are standing between me and my chance to Summon." Ice was starting to crystalise inside her, and she welcomed the familiar feeling as it crept along her veins and froze the roiling storm of emotions.

He stood uncertainly, mouth opening and closing as he searched for something to say.

Losing her patience, she thrust her hand out in front of her and reached by Oblivion. As the purple abyss appeared and Kruuyal stepped out, she could see the apprehension turn to fear on the breton's face.

"B-but you can't summon here. Not without permission!"

"Who said I cared about the rules anymore?" It was a liberating feeling, really, not being tied down by rules or self-righteous morals. Kruuyal unsheathed his sword with a soft hiss and the breton paled even further, swaying on his feet.

Kyra took a step forward, gently took his shoulder, and slowly started to apply pressure, ignoring his grimace of pain. She leaned forwards, so her lips were by his ear. "Next time, move out of my way quicker," she said softly, her voice like silk and steel.

"Kyra!" The shout startled her, and she stepped back. The expression on Tolfdir's usually benign face was wrought with fury. "Let that student go and banish your dremora." She hesitated. "Now!"

Reluctantly, she flicked her wrist to banish Kruuyal, and turned cool eyes on Tolfdir, barely noticing when the breton mumbled a hurried apology and scrambled away from her.

"It was just a little disagreement," she said smoothly, the lie falling easily from her lips. "Nothing was meant by it."

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Tolfdir asked. "I saw what was happening! You were threatening him."

"No I wasn't," Kyra said. "I…" And the full enormity of what she'd done sunk in. She felt her knees go weak, and she sagged against the wall for support, suddenly cold.

She'd threatened a defenceless student for no reason, other than he stood still for a second too long. Kyra could have hurt him, if Tolfdir hadn't come. And the worse part was that she hadn't been in control. She'd been a passenger in her body, watching her instincts and pride dictate her actions.

"Do you understand now?" Tolfdir asked, his tone slightly quieter, but no less stern. "Do you understand how this addiction is making you act?"

 _ _I'm not addicted.__ The words were on her lips but they wouldn't form. She couldn't make herself speak them. Because she knew she was, but saying it as a threat, and admitting her weakness were two entirely different things.

"I'm not a fool. I've seen a few cases of addiction to Summoning across my years, and none have ever been so violent as you. I know this is something to do with you being…dragonborn as well. You need to spend some time away from here," Tolfdir said. At first, she didn't understand what he meant. Then it clicked.

"You're __expelling__ me?" she asked. Her stomach contracted.

"Not quite. Merely an indefinite suspension of your rights as a student."He twisted his hands.

"So an expulsion."

Tolfdir sighed. "You've violated several of the most important rules of the college. Your blatant disregard to make any lasting connection with another student, aside from J'Zargo and perhaps Brelyna, has been noticeable since you first arrived. And your addiction makes you dangerous to other students, as well as teachers. Even if you __are__ dragonborn - __especially__ because you're dragonborn - you need to be held accountable for your actions."

"So that's it then? All of this, and for nothing? You'll just cast me out?" Kyra ran a shaking hand through her hair.

"We have to. J'Zargo won't do anything about it, because you're his friend. The deputy arch mage - me - can make an executive decision in cases such as these." Tolfdir said all this very quickly, without pausing for a breath.

She breathed out a laugh, incredulous.

"But I cannot, in good conscience, simply leave you to deal with your addiction alone. We can help you here. There are potions and spells that can help with the withdrawal symptoms. There are treatments available to lessen the hold this has on you. Please Kyra, accept our help."

Kyra shook her head without really thinking about it. She couldn't accept help from anyone else. She needed to be strong.

Tolfdir sighed, but looked as though he had expected it. "So this is my order then. Leave the college premises by nightfall, or you'll have to forcibly be removed. It's easier for everyone involved if it doesn't come to that."

Kyra opened her mouth to argue, to rant and rail against the unfairness of it, but something stopped her. There was a physical block in her mouth and she couldn't get the words out, couldn't let them escape.

So she walked away from Phinis without saying anything, trembling with indignation and anger. But as she reached her room, it faded and her emotions became watered down and distant. She just focused on what needed to be done.

There was little for her to pack. It took her all of ten minutes, and when she stood back at the end, her room looked just as bare as it always had.

Kyra considered saying goodbye to someone - J'Zargo, Phinis, Brelyna. They'd all looked out for her in their own way, and even if she didn't show it, she was grateful for them. But she'd always hated goodbyes.

Instead, she cast a featherlight spell on her bag, using an enchanted amulet J'Zargo had given her several months ago, and set out through the doors.

Twilight was falling as she left the college, casting a dark veil over the bleak snowscape, and she was reminded of her long nights stood out here, too numerous to count, Summoning to the stars with only Kruuyal to keep her company.

As if she'd thought about it too much, her arms started itching, her skin crawling. She smiled, somehow grateful for such a familiar sensation. She reached for the humming threads, and sought the one that connected to her Familiar. She would have Summoned Kruuyal, but her wolf was remarkably skilled at navigating the treacherous ice.

She pulled her wolf from Oblivion to Mundus, and the itching lessened as he appeared in front of her, his ghostly form faintly glowing. She'd hoped that one Summon would be enough to stop the itching, but it was still there, making her grimace in discomfort.

She Banished him, and then Summoned a fire atronach and storm atronach in quick succession, gasping as the waves of pleasure rolled over her.

But it still wasn't enough.

Something was different this time. The discomfort had faded, but she still needed to Summon, she __needed__ to feel that pleasure again. A distant section of her mind knew she should resist the urge, but it was easily ignored, and instead, she raised her hand and reached for the void.

She Summoned Kruuyal, but before he could say anything, she Summoned a storm atronach. Then her Familiar again. Ice atronach.

Fire atronach.

Storm.

Kruuyal opened his mouth, his face creased in worry.

Familiar.

Fire.

Ice.

Kruuyal took a step towards her, hand outstretched.

Storm.

Once she started, she couldn't stop. She was half-aware of her feet moving, stumbling around in circles as her creations appeared for a second in front of her, before being replaced by the next. She was hot and cold, trembling and sweating, restless energy twitching in her blood. Her eyes burned.

And then she was lying in the snow, melted snow trickling down her face like tears. She couldn't find the energy to wipe them away, but was somehow able to raise her hand and Summon her Familiar. Hazy with pleasure and exhaustion, she barely noticed when the black tendrils spread further up her arms, the last pale tints of grey turning black.

Someone shouted something in the distance.

Darkness hovered at the edge of her vision. She welcomed it, feeling her body become numb and her Familiar fade away as she lost control.

And as she finally closed her eyes, she thought she saw Alaedra running towards her, eyes filled with worry and Kyra's name upon her lips.

But it was just an illusion.

* * *

The first thing she was aware of was rough sheets against her skin. They scratched and itched and she groaned in discomfort.

And then she became aware of the pounding in her head, each pulse sending a spike of pain through her mind. Kyra clenched her fists, trying to ignore the pain, but her muscles felt strange. Slow to react. Sluggish.

She tried to sink back into sleep, but a quiet beeping from somewhere in the distance kept her awake.

She opened her eyes a crack. Harsh light attacked them but she ignored it, looking around wildly. Her eyesight was blurry, lines indistinct, but she could tell she was in a large hall, lines of beds stretching out either side of her. She was in one such bed, the covers rumpled and twisted beneath her as if she had been tossing in her sleep.

Where was she?

Panic began to rise in her and she felt her breath sped up, rasping in her throat. Her mind was fuzzy, indistinct, and as she tried to grasp onto a though, it fluttered away from her. She struggled to sit up, muscles weak, still looking around, even as the room started to spin.

She groaned, heart fluttering, and kneaded the palms of her hand into her eyes, making colours burst and whirl behind her eyelids. The beeping was growing more insistent and invasive.

Something crashed in the distance.

Kyra hurriedly threw herself down, trying to calm her trembling breath, and arranged her limbs in such a way that she hoped she would be taken for asleep if someone came in.

Her thoughts were still indistinct, existing on their own, disconnected from each other, but she maintained enough presence of mind to realise that she needed to know where she was and why she was here.

There was another crash. The sound of a door opening. Then, footsteps, nearing her. Voices.

"She shouldn't have woken up this this early." A male's voice. Sounds of agreement echoed him, tinged with professional concern.

"We need to alter the treatment to account for the extraneous variables. The.." The voice continued but she didn't understand what they were saying. It was a strong of nonsensical words, drawn-out and complicated. Should she understand? What was-

"Can she hear us?"

Kyra stiffened, drawing in a shocked breath as everything else fled her mind.

The voice was achingly, hauntingly familiar. She knew it as well as she knew her own, could hear the faintly drawn out __r__ 's, could hear the measured softness.

The voice meant pain and pleasure, it was tragedy…and trust. Bittersweetness swirled in her stomach, eddied in her mind, as a face to match the voice appeared in her mind's eye.

Kyra's eyes shot open. She frantically sought out the owner of the voice, ignoring the people who crowded around her bed, dressed in their pristine, white robes, ignoring their murmurs of shock and attempts to make her relax.

Her gaze alighted on a figure standing just a few metres away from her. Finely sculpted features, chestnut hair tumbling down her back in loose waves, and beautiful grey eyes that were looking at her, __seeing__ her. They were wide with shock and panic.

 _ _Alaedra.__

She opened her mouth.

And then the memories slammed into her like a physical force, leaving her reeling and gasping for air. They overwhelmed her, leaving her drowning in the past, but they were disjointed, they didn't make sense. Were these memories hers? Why could she see so many dead bodies, their faces turned towards the sky? And why was her silhouette reflected in their glassy eyes, hands dripping with blood and teeth bared in a primal smile?

Why-why-why-

Her arms started itching, her skin squirming as though bugs were crawling through her veins. Her muscles were trembling, spasming. Why were her arms stinging? What was happening?

Why-why-why-why-why-

Alaedra's voice was floating in and out of hearing. She tried to focus on it, to ground her in reality, but all she could hear was someone muttering, each word slurred into the next in a river of motion and sound.

Why-why-why-why-why-why-why

Her arms were still stinging, the sensation spreading through her body, the pounding in her head a second heartbeat. She couldn't control her body, even when her back arched off the bed, each muscles trembling and straining with exertion, but she was barely aware of it. She was lost in her own mind.

Why-why-why-why-why-why-whywhy ** **whywhywhy****

She went limp, exhaustion washing over her, a thick, grey wave. Fire coated her veins and she tried to shout, to scream, but she couldn't move, she couldn't think.

Darkness crept closer. With a sigh, she let it take her.


End file.
